


Who We Are

by SolarEclipser



Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Bonding, Canon-Typical Violence, Family Dynamics, Family Reunions, Fictional Religion & Theology, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Healing, Guilt, Healing, Mandalorian Culture, Mando'a, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Rebuilding, The Force, post episode 8
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23622580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SolarEclipser/pseuds/SolarEclipser
Summary: “Come to us, Din,”Paz said.“Send us confirmation that you’ve received this and we will give you our coordinates. We want you and your foundling to join us. There are many things to talk about in person.”There was another brief pause.“We hold nothing against you. What happened was not your fault.”The hologram fizzled out. He stared at it for several minutes, the words replaying again and again in his mind.-----After Gideon's attack, the Mandalorians try to rebuild.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Din Djarin/Original Female Character(s), The Armorer & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV) & Paz Vizla
Comments: 90
Kudos: 371





	1. Message Received

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> I made a [discord](https://discord.gg/SJTzwqE)  
> if you want to chat with me!

The message arrived in the midst of hyperspace. 

Though he’d been focused on the star charts in front of him, he was gripped by exhaustion. His movements felt slow, barely comprehending what he was reading, as his eyes kept falling shut and the exhaustion sat deep in his bones. His head ached and his body ached, that lingering pain never leaving.

They’d been searching for months and he had no leads anywhere. The Armorer’s quest for him looked more and more bleak with each passing day.

His eyes fell shut. He was drained of all energy after the last job he’d picked up and still had healing bruises all over from being thrown around by a crime lord’s men. _I’m not going to be the bait again,_ he thought bitterly, reaching up to rub his arm. _Not again._

From behind came a coo and a soft whine, prompting him to turn in his seat and look down with heavy eyes. The child stood there, frowning as he did, looking up at Din. He raised his arms.

“I just put you down for a nap,” Din sighed. “Why are you-”

Then the message popped up and Din nearly jumped before looking over. A hologram flickered to life on the dashboard and for a moment he could only stare, his heart threatening to speed up in his chest.

The blue, holographic image of Paz Vizsla stood there, arms crossed and as looming as ever.

 _“Djarin,”_ it said. Din straightened. _“We’ve been trying to get a message through to you since the events on Nevarro and they’ve been unsuccessful. Hopefully, our positioning will make this one reach you.”_

Din swallowed.

 _“The covert has been destroyed but not all our people were lost,” Paz said. “We had sent scouts to search for a new home. Some managed to escape the attack, foundlings with them. While it is not as many as we want, it is_ something, _and we plan to rebuild as much as we can.”_

There was a pause. Paz glanced to the side, then his hands dropped to his sides. As he was given whimpers, he could only stare at the hologram, emotion stirring in his chest.

 _“Come to us, Din,”_ Paz said. _“Send us confirmation that you’ve received this and we will give you our coordinates. We want you and your foundling to join us. There are many things to talk about in person.”_ There was another brief pause. _“We hold nothing against you. What happened was not your fault.”_

The hologram fizzled out. He stared at it for several minutes, the words replaying again and again in his mind. His thoughts were interrupted by a demanding shriek and he looked down at the kid before lifting him into his lap. He took a long, deep breath.

_Not your fault._

The words were what he wanted to hear most and yet they felt… not enough. It only took some of the weight off his shoulders and he let out another breath as he leaned back.

The kid turned and stared up at him, a stuffed toy in his mouth.

His hands moved without intention. He didn’t think before he was pulling up the message board, searching for the origin of the signal, typing out a simple response in Mando’a. _Djarin. Message received._ Straight to the point. The kid dropped his toy and instead tried to climb up onto the dash. Din pulled him back.

“This should feel like a better idea,” Din said.

The kid stared up at him but offered no commentary. Din let out a sigh and shook his head. The Mandalorians were his brothers and sisters, not his adversaries. But the sight of the pile of armor was burned onto his eyelids and he couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened. That Mandalorians, adults and _children,_ were dead because of him.

They knew the cost of revealing themselves, the Armorer had said, but Din couldn’t push the guilt away. They had come to his aid, even after he’d been called _hut’uun._ Paz had questioned his place in front of others and they still came to defend him. But how could they have anticipated Gideon?

Din set his jaw and drew the kid against his chest with one arm. The child stared up at him, then turned to stare at the pretty lights of hyperspace.

“What do you think?” he asked. The kid turned to look up at him, cooing.

_Say no thanks and run?_

The thought crossed his mind for only a moment but he felt shame that it existed at all. He was _no_ coward. Running from his tribe wasn’t a thought he should ever have.

But the possible reality of facing parents who’d lost their children or children who had been orphaned because of him - that made his stomach turn.

The kid turned his attention more fully on him. He reached up and grabbed a fistful of Din’s cape, giving a tug before he leaned his head against his cuirass and closed his eyes. Din stroked his back and willed his anxiety to calm.

“What’s the worst that happens?” he muttered. “They jump me?”

It was meant as a joke. But then his stomach turned. Paz sounded genuine, but he wasn’t sure.

They had reasons to hate him. To want him dead. How easy would it be for them to cut his throat and simply take the kid? The kid would probably forget him after a few years.

“No,” he said. He turned and stood up, holding the kid, beginning to pace instead. “No.”

The kid stared up at him with big eyes. He made a coo and squirmed a little. Din let out another sigh, his other hand becoming a fist.

Then there was a _ping_ and he turned on his heel. The new message blinking across his screen had coordinates with another message. _Bring food._ He sunk back into the chair and typed them in. A planet popped up; Ghivaal. “Thick forests,” he muttered. “Low population density. One starport on the other side of the planet.” He looked at the kid. “They picked a good spot.”

The kid squeaked.

Din held on tight to him, then reached over and pulled them back out of hyperspace. They jerked forward for a moment, but Din held firm. Then he tapped on the nav and set a course for the coordinates.

“Let’s hope this all works out,” he muttered.

The kid grabbed his toy again.

\---

Ghivaal was covered in green, and upon entering the atmosphere, Din saw that there was more forest than open land. He followed the coordinates, scanning for any technological traces, though the Razor Crest couldn’t detect other ships present. The coordinates drew near.

He tapped on the map. It looked as though the coordinates were placed in the center of another expansive forest, and he let out a breath before he jerked the controls back. He heard a squeak from the sleeping child behind him but began to guide the Razor Crest back towards the nearest clearing. They’d have to trek it, then.

They settled down on the grass. Upon hearing whimpering, Din turned around and was quick to scoop the distressed boy into his arms. “Shh,” he murmured, “it’s okay. We’re okay.”

The child took deep breaths as though preparing for a tantrum. Din hurriedly bounced him as he walked out of the cockpit and slid down into the cargo hold. “We’re safe, it’s safe,” he said. The kid sniffed but began to calm. “I promise.”

The kid buried his face in Din’s arm, sniffling.

Din stroked an ear, then grabbed a bag off a crate and began to pace around the hold, searching. He didn’t usually take the kid off the ship for long periods of time, not intentionally. He had too many things to carry into a thick forest, boxes and crates of weapons and clothing, alongside the several crates of nonperishable food he’d bought upon request. They weren’t in the best financial spot, but it wasn’t as though spending his money on the tribe was anything new.

He collected what they’d need for at least an overnight. They could come back for more. He grabbed a small portion of food for the kid and one for himself, plus some toys and blankets that _had_ to be present for bedtime. The baby breathed quietly in the nook of his arm as he slung the bag over his shoulder and walked off the ship.

“Let’s do this,” he said, as he reached for the controls on his vambrace. The ship began to close and he turned. He began to walk into the forest, adjusting the child in one hand while the other strayed down towards his blaster.

The trees were massive and almost impossible to fly through. Thick roots curled up and around, destroying the chance of a flat and straightforward path, and Din paused a moment before his jetpack flared, giving him a boost up. The kid giggled and burrowed into Din’s hold as he balanced on the root. Din looked down, adjusting the hold, and took a jump forward onto the next one. The bag slammed against his hip but was light enough to ignore. Din looked around, then gave another boost onto the next root.

He looked ahead. Now he could see further into the forest, but it was dark. Patches of sunlight streamed through, though they weren’t enough to illuminate the trees, and instead he reached up and pressed a button on the side of his helmet. His visor switched to night vision, now outlining the trees and their roots.

“Ready?” he said, looking down at the kid. The baby cooed and his hand came to his controls. “Good.”

Din pushed off the root and the jetpack burst to life. He shot forward into the air. For a moment, it was shaky until he stabilized and steered upwards, avoiding the roots that curled outwards and dropping underneath others. The kid shrieked in his arms, a ball of laughter at Din’s chest. Din tightened his grip and scanned for incoming trees, jerking himself out of the way when one came up fast. His heart pounded in his chest. Flying was thrilling, but he was weaving in and out between massive trees and barely avoiding impact.

He shielded the kid with his arms. The child didn’t squirm so much, little claws digging into Din’s arm instead. His ears flapped in the wind and though the air was humid, he began to whimper.

A clearing appeared ahead of them, a small reprieve from the knotted roots, and Din took a moment to settle there. He dropped down, stumbling forward a bit, before he righted himself and stood. As the kid squirmed in his arms, Din set him down by his feet. “Don’t wander,” he said, before tapping his helmet again. He began to scan for heat signatures, scanning the area slowly. A few warm shapes flew past, but only birds and small animals. He gave a glance towards the kid, who was looking along the ground - likely for frogs. “... I don’t think there’s anything to eat, kid.”

The kid made a soft whine.

Din pulled the bag around and shoved a hand in to grab a ration bar. He knelt down and pulled it out, breaking off a piece. “Here,” he said. “Come here.”

The kid waddled back over, a streaking blob of red and yellow. Din couldn’t see his face but by the hesitation, knew he was giving a _look_ to the food. Then he took it and popped it into his mouth. Din pulled off another piece as he looked around again. The kid took each piece Din gave him until the bar was nearly gone.

Then the kid froze, his hands still on Din’s, the piece between them. “Not hungry?” Din said, but the kid let out a whimper.

_Not safe._

The thought whispered at the back of his mind, springing out of nowhere, and a chill ran down Din’s spine. He stared at the kid, then slowly wrapped the bar and shoved it back in the bag. “Let’s go,” he said, and he slung it back over his shoulder. He held his arms out and the kid stepped closer. Din picked him up and the child buried right against his shoulder, still letting out small whines.

Din reached for the jetpack controls just as a low, ricketing growl came from behind. The next instant, a heavy weight crashed into him from behind. The child screamed at his chest as Din was thrown forward, curled around the kid as he rolled, and the creature passed over them. Stunned, he got straight to his knees and turned, reaching for his night vision controls. There was even less light getting through the trees now as the sun set.

Everything went from heat to green. The snarling face of a massive jungle cat stared at him, with large beady eyes and fangs. Din glanced down at giant curved claws, looking sharp as a knife, dug into the ground. The cat crouched low, letting out a louder growl that rumbled in its chest. Din gripped the kid, taking fast, shallow breaths.

The cat growled again and pounced.

Din threw the kid to the side and dove the other way. The resulting scream struck a painful chord in his chest but he was relieved when the cat swung a paw towards him instead. He rolled out of the way and back to his feet, taking a few steps back. The cat turned and fixed its gaze on him, lips pulled back to show its fangs. Din sucked in air. The animal stood between them now, the kid crying on the other side. Din gritted his teeth and stepped back some more as the cat began to creep closer.

Grab the kid and fly out, he thought. The cat kept moving towards him. He pulled his blaster and fired a shot; the cat yowled and it steamed where the bolt hit its front paw, but it gave him a fast shake before stepping again. This time with less weight on it. Din swore beneath his breath.

The cat stopped. Instead it shifted slowly on the ground, sitting back on his haunches, almost flattening itself along the ground. Din raised his blaster, muscles ready to spring. The cat stared at him, completely still.

Then it pounced again, mouth opened wide, and Din slammed his jetpack controls. He shot into the air and pointed his arm down, releasing a blast of fire straight into the animal’s face. It let out a high-pitched scream and turned away, hissing and spitting. Din landed on the other side and sprinted towards the crying child, his heart pounding in his chest. “Where are you,” he muttered, looking around in the darkness. He stared along the ground, then reached up and flicked his light on. “Where did you--”

The child shrieked just as the hair stood on the back of Din’s neck. He whipped around for the cat to crash into him and he hit the ground on his back, his head hitting the ground enough to daze him. He was trapped beneath a paw, its claws spread along his cuirass, enough weight pushing down for him to wheeze for air.

Din raised his arm again for fire, but this time, the cat caught it with its teeth and Din couldn’t hold back a scream when sharp fangs dug into his arm. It pierced his skin, drawing blood, and he gritted his teeth as he fumbled for his blaster. The cat bit harder, but the buttons on his vambrace broke under pressure and burst into sparks. The cat yowled and pulled back, swatting hard at Din instead. Claws scraped his side, and he managed another scream before he jerked his arm and fire puffed out in short bursts.

The cat backed away, and Din shoved to his feet, breathing heavy. He pulled his blaster and held it in his good hand, his vibroblade going in the one that trembled. He took a shaky breath.

He reached for his jetpack controls, unchewed, and shot into the air. He aimed and fired his blaster, and the cat dove out of the way, quick and agile against Din’s aim. He hovered twenty feet in the air, his shots off by bare inches.

The cat dodged, then leapt off the ground and a paw swiped at him, sending him out of the air.

Din crashed straight to the ground. The impact shuddered through his body and for a moment he could only lay still before pushing himself up. Then he turned and lifted his blaster, ready for another pounce, when he stared at the cat.

It hovered in the air, staring at him with wide slitted eyes. It looked ready to land, front paws outstretched, but didn’t move. Din couldn’t see the kid. He raised his blaster and aimed between its eyes.

_Mudhorn._

But a wave of blaster shots came from over a tree root, slamming into the animal’s side, and it yowled before collapsing to the ground. It did not move. Din let out a breath, then dropped to a knee and cradled his arm, his breath shaky. The sound of jetpacks was familiar. Helmeted voices were familiar. His name was called and he looked up.

“He’s there,” he said, as four Mandalorians landed in the clearing, each gripping a blaster or rifle. His voice came out pained. “The kid. _Ik’aad._ He’s in the dark, I…”

One Mandalorian turned immediately, a hand coming to his helmet, before he darted forward. Another walked towards the cat. The other two came towards Din at a jog, hanging their weapons on their belts as they came to his side.

“We’ve got you, Djarin,” one said. His upper arms were grabbed, he was pulled to his feet. It was difficult to tell with night vision, but it sounded like Aren. “We have you.”

“Got him!” a voice called. Sounded like Trins. The child was whimpering, but he was quieter, sounding tired. Din’s chest hurt at the sound. The two at his sides pulled his arms over their shoulders and held his waist.

“Let’s go,” Aren said, his voice firm and commanding. “Before another one shows up.”

“It’s good meat.” Irin, Din was sure, and that made his heart ache. He was a kid. Seeing them all at once felt like a punch to the gut as well as a good bandage. They may have escaped, but the wrath he had brought upon them-

“No,” Aren said. “We have to get them back. Djarin is hurt, kid might be too. You can’t stay on your own. Comm base and tell them we’re coming back with _beroya bal ad’ika._ Let’s go.”

“I can fly,” Din muttered. “I’m good.”

There was a moment of hesitation, but Aren nodded. “If you say so,” he said. He looked to the others. “You three go. Djarin follows. I’ll take the rear.”

There were several nods before jetpacks flared. Din reached for his own controls. Not having the kid in his arms sent deep discomfort through him, but he had to trust his brothers, at least right now. He shifted his stance, solidifying, as his own jetpack powered on.

They jumped into the sky and Din followed.

His arm _ached_ when they landed in another tiny clearing, just barely big enough for a party to land in. Din managed a better landing and upon doing so, heard the kid burst into shrieks. “Hey, hey,” Trins said, holding on to the kid. “It’s okay-”

“Give him to me,” Din said, taking a step over.

Trins looked up. “I’ve got him, your arm is-”

“Give him.” Din held out his good arm.

Trins didn’t move for a moment, but then handed the kid over, and Din quickly brought the child against his chest. Right away, the child began to calm, letting out panicked breaths that eased into a normal pattern. He curled up and stared at the other Mandalorians, pressing against Din.

Din stroked an ear, his heart still pounding.

Aren walked past them and towards the darkness, his helmet light flicking on, and Din saw it illuminate a stone wall. Aren walked down a short grassy path that sloped down and to a metal door, where he knocked against it several times in a pattern. The other Mandalorians fell in behind him and Din did the same.

The door opened. A young Mandalorian stood in its place, stepping back for them, and they filed into the small hallway. It went on for several feet, then to a set of stairs. They went down and the space opened into a somewhat large, nearly bare room, with open doorways along each wall.

There were clear paths along the floor, each wrapping around something, and whatever it was had been cleared away. In the far rooms, just out of sight, there were voices. Not many, but enough for conversations, some young and some older.

Din felt the breath leave him all at once.

_It’s not hopeless._

“Djarin.”

Din turned and saw Paz standing in the doorway, nearly too big to stand there with his helmet, and his stomach turned. He adjusted the child in his arms. Paz nodded at the other Mandalorians, then looked back to Din. “You’re hurt,” he said.

“It’ll heal,” Din said.

Paz seemed to frown, even with a hidden expression. “Let’s talk,” he said. “Aren?”

Aren nodded and both he and Paz walked into the other room. Din bit his lip and followed, the child cooing, and rubbed along his wrist as they stepped into another empty space. The rest of the survivors seemed to all be as far away as possible now.

There was a moment of silence. “This is the foundling,” Paz said.

The child turned as though sensing his mention and stared up at Paz much the same as he had with the Armorer. There was a vague shyness as he leaned back against Din, still swimming in his robe, but with an expression of almost curiosity. Then he looked up at Din, and then at Paz and Aren, as though making a comparison. Finally, he seemed to relax.

“He has powers,” Din said. “He can move things with his mind. The matriarch called him a ‘jedi’.”

Paz looked sharply at him. Din frowned. “You recognize it?”

“My _buir_ told me stories,” Paz said, his voice becoming soft. “About the battles of old. The conflict we had. Didn’t know how real it was.”

They fall silent for a moment. Din looked down at the kid and held on tightly. “The matriarch told me some of you might have survived, and… I could only hope,” he said. His chest felt tight. “That I hadn’t… hadn’t gotten you all killed with my mistakes.”

“Din-” Aren started.

“I didn’t - I didn’t have a lot of… faith,” he said. “He’s a foundling. She told me to find his kind, but I… haven’t had any luck. There’s been nothing.” He sucked in a breath. “I didn’t look for you. I didn’t think there was anyone to find-”

“Din.” Paz stepped up to him and set a hand on his shoulder. A soft, concerned sound from the kid drew his attention down. The child had shifted in his arms and now had his hands on his cuirass, staring up at him. “It’s okay. We’re not mad at you for a choice we made. We knew there were going to be consequences to helping you. But we weren’t going to abandon you.”

Din stared at him.

Paz let out a breath. “I regret my words to you, _vod,”_ he said. “They were harsh and judgmental.”

“They made sense-”

“They were undeserved,” Paz said. “Beskar as payment from an Imp felt like betrayal, Djarin, but those were emotions over logic. I’m sorry. _N'eparavu takisit.”_

Din stared at him.

Paz’s hand fell from his shoulder but Aren stepped up as well. “You’re still our _beroya,”_ he said, a smile in his voice. “We want you here, Djarin. The more people we can gather, the better. We need you. If you’re willing to stay.”

Din swallowed. “If you want me,” he said. “If you - yes. I’ll stay.”

Paz nodded. “You need to see to your injury. Bitten?”

Din looked down at it. The puncture wounds throbbed, his side felt sensitive, and he could feel air where his suit had been torn. The kid cooed and reached for his arm. He nodded. “One of those cats, out in the-”

Aren nodded. “They’re a problem when we go for supplies,” he said.

“I have things on the Razor Crest,” Din said. “Everything I had before and more food.”

Aren straightens. “Do you have credits leftover?”

“Not much,” Din said. “But yes.”

“Great.”

“We’ll send a group out to get it in the morning,” Paz said. “We have a bit of bacta. Nara can help you.”

Din frowned, but only nodded. The thought of taking from a bacta supply made him nervous. Unless the cat had been venomous, he didn’t want what he didn’t need. “I will,” he said.

“We don’t have much for beds,” Aren said. “Just some blankets and the floor. We’ve been trying to get some more.”

“I can help with that,” Din said.

“Thank the stars,” Aren said with a slight smile. He glanced at Paz. _“Al’verde,”_ he said, before he turned and left the room and walked towards the other Mandalorians.

Paz looked at him for a moment. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said, “both of you.” Then he turned and walked into the other room as well.

Din let out a breath and felt his shoulders relax. They were _genuine._ He couldn’t detect a shred of deception other than simple awkwardness. He looked down at the kid, who was reaching for his vambrace.

“I think we’re going to be okay, _cyar’ika,”_ he said.

The kid looked up at him and let out a soft whimper, straining harder to reach his arm. Din frowned and sat down with him in his lap, bringing both hands to hold him, and the kid immediately put hands against his forearm. Din hissed at the touch. “Watch,” he said quickly. “That’s-”

The kid closed his eyes.

“... No.” Din pulled away. “You can’t-”

The baby whimpered and let out a louder whimper, standing on Din’s leg and reaching for his arm. Tears formed in his eyes and he made soft little whines, fast and quick, always the sign of an impending tantrum. Din huffed and gave his arm back. “No healing,” he said. “You can’t do that every-”

The kid only put his hands back and closed his eyes again. Din felt guilt flood him but as relief spread along his arm, the blistering heat giving way to a gentle coolness and smoothed skin, he couldn’t help but feel that relief. When the pain had disappeared, the kid leaned back and turned up to give him a small smile, as though to say _look, I’m fine._

Din stared at him, then pulled the kid against his chest and curled around him. “We’re going to have to explain this to them,” he whispered.

The baby giggled and reached up to plant his hands against his visor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:  
> Hut'uun: coward (worst insult)  
> Ik'aad: baby  
> Beroya bal ad'ika: bounty hunter and little one  
> Vod: (in context) comrade, mate  
> N'eparavu takisit: I'm sorry (lit. I eat my insult)  
> Al'verde: commander  
> Cyar'ika: darling, sweetheart
> 
> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> I made a [discord](https://discord.gg/SJTzwqE)  
> if you want to chat with me!


	2. Loud Whispers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The supplies from the ship are retrieved. Din and the kid settle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> I made a [discord](https://discord.gg/SJTzwqE)  
> if you want to chat with me!

That night, they slept on the floor. Most of the children - and there were at least a  _ few _ \- had gone to sleep, parents with them, and so Din and the child were only greeted by the remaining others. A few shelves had been built into the wall to form semi-bunks, some Mandalorians taking those. Din looked around the room; there were plenty of empty spaces. He took a spot near the wall and sat, leaning back against it with the kid in his lap.

“New home,” he said in a soft voice.  _ “Yaim.” _

The child stared up at him.

It wasn’t much for a kid. It was a roof over their heads but with few other comforts. Din looked around at their people, somehow brought even lower, and felt that stirring of anger in his chest. When the morning came, he’d take everything he could from the Razor Crest. He had tools, blankets, emergency stashes of food and water. Things he’d accumulated to keep himself going, so he could keep hunting, and extra comforts were collected for the kid. Toys could be shared. He’d fly to get them whatever they needed.

Soon, the child began to yawn. He sat higher on Din’s cuirass but straightened up to yawn and he tumbled back, landing in his lap with a squeak and a tired whimper. Din smiled and righted him, running his thumb over the kid’s back. “Time for bed,” he said.

The kid let out a huff. But Din reached over to their bag and pulled out the blankets, a blue and a brown one, wrapping them around the kid in what was just muscle memory. He took off his jetpack, then laid down on his back and let the child snuggle down against him, taking deep breaths. The kid cooed and closed his eyes, falling quiet, and the rest of the covert felt just as sleepy. Din glanced over towards the dark shapes, then put a hand on the kid’s back and fell asleep as well.

When Din woke, it was Aren shaking him awake. Din jolted up, staring at Aren, who leaned back. “Everyone’s up,” Aren said. “We want to get the supplies off the Crest soon.”

Din barely heard, instead looking down at the weightlessness in his lap. His stomach turned and he sat up further. “Where’s the kid?” he demanded.

“He got up earlier,” Aren said. “The kids are playing.” He pointed to the side and Din looked towards the nearest doorway. He heard soft, quiet giggles and stomping feet before the children shushed each other, so used to secrecy and quiet even when there likely wasn’t danger here. Din relaxed and began to get up, stretching and feeling things pop. He grabbed his jetpack and put it back into place on his back, the weight now familiar.

Aren walked into the next room and Din followed. Most of the Mandalorians were gathered there, the children playing in the space just over, and were seated in groups as they spoke. Paz and Nara were sitting on a bench, bins in front of them, and were carefully taking out and counting small wrapped objects. Din looked again to see that they were all a kind of ration bar. They were being counted and handed to the others, who immediately began to divide it for their group. The children began to creep over, and Din watched them pull off their helmets to inhale the small portion.

“Din.”

Din looked to Paz and caught the bar thrown at him. He peeled it open; it was different than what they kept on the ship, so at least it had variety. He looked towards the kid, then walked over, his footsteps quickly gaining attention. Lina sat with the kid, both looking up at him.

_ “Beroya!”  _ she said.

_ “Vaar’tur,”  _ he said in greeting, and she repeated it back. He crouched down as the kid wandered over and opened the bar’s wrapping further, breaking off a piece. The child made a chirp and leaned in to sniff, frowning then at the lack of nice smell, but reached for it anyway with grabby hands. Din gave it to him and the kid stuffed it in his mouth, munching loudly. Din wondered for a moment about his teeth. If he had two sets like humans, or needed specific care.

But the hardness of the bar didn’t seem to bother him, and he chewed piece after piece until most of the bar was gone. Din wrapped up the end and the child didn’t seem to mind as his new friends came back over. They were much like the Sorgan kids in how they seemed fascinated by him, and the child responded better to the masked faces now like he understood they were Din’s people. Din gave him a brush of his hand against his back before he stood.

With the children fed, the abled warriors packed their rations away on their persons and stood. In the sewers, they had been safer and still had more room for privacy, but there was no such luxury here. Paz, Aren, Irin, and Sair came to the center of the room and Din joined them.

“We need to get the supplies from the ship,” Paz said, looking to Din. “The sooner we can get them  _ here,  _ the better.”

“Scavengers?” Din said. “Population seems sparse.”

“There’s a village nearby,” Sair said. “They’re mostly harmless, but might pick at your ship if they can.”

“There’s a place to park it,” Paz said. “A few miles to the east, we found a tunnel to fit the ships. We can move the Razor Crest there while we’re out.”

Din nodded.

“How’s your arm?”

He paused then, feeling their stares on him, and let out a breath. “It’s fine,” he said.

“Those bites are nasty,” Aren said. “Are you sure--”

“I am,” Din said. “I’m alright.”

Paz and Aren seemed to share a glance, but they didn’t protest it. Others joined their group - Trins and Jessa, both with their hands on their blasters. All strong warriors who’d come to help him. Din turned away for a moment and walked towards the kids, giggling as they tossed an object around, but his foundling turned immediately to see him. Din knelt in front of him and took his hand between his finger and thumb.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” he said. “We’ll be back soon. You’re safe here.”

The kid stared up at him and made a small whimper. Din was never sure how much he understood. He got up to his feet and grabbed Din’s hand with both of his, making a small growl. Din reached up to stroke along an ear and the kid had glassy eyes as he looked at Din.

_ “Gar kar’taylir darasuum,”  _ he murmured. “Be good.” And with it, he gave the kid a gentle caress and pulled away. The kid made a sad coo but didn’t follow, watching him instead. It always felt difficult to separate, more so when the kid was left with others. Din knew the tribe. The kid didn’t. But he trusted them.

He returned to the group. Paz turned and began walking towards the door and they all fell in behind him, walking up the steps and out into the forest air. It felt warm and humid, surrounded by the calls of wild animals. More sunlight streamed through, just enough to see by.

Din pointed ahead. “Straight,” he said. “Edge of the forest.”

Paz nodded. “Shouldn’t have any problems, but keep your guard up,” he said. All the Mandalorians nodded. “Stay together, comms if we get separated. Don’t get lost.”

Din reached for his jetpack controls, flexing the hand of the damaged vambrace. The beskar had held well against the force of a bite, stopping worse damage, but the buttons were unusable. They’d have to get the ship open manually.

One by one, the Mandalorians took a step and launched themselves into the air, jetpacks sending them hurtling forward. They made more or less of a line, shooting past trees and their roots, dipping and diving or going high to avoid entirely. Din followed near the back, matching Sair’s flight path, keeping careful control of his body. It was easy to make the wrong move and lose all control at once. He watched Sair’s movements and followed every small adjustment.

The journey was shorter than yesterday’s, with special consideration to no massive cats attacking them. Soon they shot out of the forest and into bright sunlight, each dropping down into the grassy field with either smooth landings or stumbles forward. Din kept his footing, then looked towards the Razor Crest. It still sat closed up and he began walking towards it. The others followed, the sun feeling hot through his layers.

“Controls broke,” he said. “We have to reach the button panel to get it open.”

“Inconvenient,” Paz muttered.

“Just give me a boost,” Din said. “I’ll get it open.”

Paz walked over to the side of the ship and leaned down, cupping his hands for a boost, and Din put a foot there before stepping up. Paz pushed him up higher and he grabbed the side of the Crest to balance before punching in the opening sequence. He was so used to using his brace controls that getting the ship open without it was strange. The door hissed before it began to open and the ramp extended. Din stepped down and walked over, heading up into the ship.

“There,” Din said, gesturing to the grouping of crates that was tied down and pushed to the side. Aren walked to it. Din turned and walked instead to the child’s toys, still scattered on the floor from the last playtime session. He scooped them up, then set them on the table. He grabbed a nearby rucksack and started shoving the toys in. There were more things they needed up in the sleeping quarters.

As the others began to carry the first crate off, Din climbed up the ladder and turned into the bedroom. He had more blankets and pillows, most of which had a home in the cradle he’d found for the child. He’d need to bring that, or the sleeping problems would start up again. He started to detach the magnets that held it to the wall, then began to drag it out and brought it down to the cargo hold.

Part of him let out a sigh. If they were going to live in the new base, he had to move their whole lives out of the Razor Crest.

As he climbed down the ladder again, lowering the cradle carefully, the others were talking. “... Have to figure it out,” Aren said. “Use what we can. What we know. Hope for the best. We’ll do what we have to.”

The cradle touched the ground. They looked over and Din hopped down from the ladder. He walked to the small kitchenette shoved into the wall and pulled open the drawers.

“Wish we had more,” Trins said.

Din pulled out water jugs and set them on the floor, then more sealed ration packs. There were a few packets of milk that the kid adored. He emptied the drawers of whatever was still good. He gave the collection a glance and thought of how many people they had. If everyone had - well, subtract more for growing kids. Maybe a bit more for larger portions. Add what he’d already seen in the bins. Add what he’d bought in bulk. They had a decent amount of food, even if the kids would complain for weeks.

Maybe they could trade with the locals. Din set it all in the cradle to hold it. But there was an element of desperation to revealing themselves in that way. A few child’s bottles were thrown in. He stood and gave another look around before pulling the cradle to the door and down the ramp, letting it settle on the grass. The crates of food were laid out and Aren and Jessa were working cables around them for carrying.

“Bed for the kid?”

Din looked at Paz, then set a hand on the cradle’s siding. “With toys,” he said. “He’ll share.”

Paz walked over and let out an amused breath, glancing into what the cradle contained. “He actually shares?”

Din tilted his head to the side. “We’ll find out.”

Paz chuckled, then looked up at him. “You and I can get the ship into the hiding spot,” he said. “They’ll take the supplies back.”

Din frowned to himself, but nodded. “Sure.”

There was another sweep done aboard the Razor Crest before Din was satisfied that everything they could use had been taken off. Toys, tools, and extra sets of clothing were packed up and cabled to be flown back. As Aren and the others made sure they were secure, Din and Paz walked up into the Razor Crest and climbed to the cockpit. Din hit the button for the doors to close as he began the startup sequence.

“What were you doing?”

Din glanced over his shoulder at Paz, who stood in the doorway with his hand on the copilot chair for balance. He looked ahead again and turned the engines on. “Surviving,” he said. “Day to day. That’s how it’s been since the kid.”

“No luck.”

“Nothing.” They rose into the air and Din kept the joysticks steady. “Most people had no idea what I was asking about. No leads. Nothing I could find. I doubt they fucking exist anymore.”

His grip tightened. His tone was sharp but only a tiny  _ fraction  _ of the frustration he had been feeling for the past months. He closed his eyes for just a moment to breathe in. He spent most of his time on a small starship with a mystical  _ toddler  _ of unknown origin, chasing something that didn’t seem to exist. Asking questions and chasing leads that led nowhere but back to the cold vacuum of space, looking for the next thing.

“Follow the tree line,” Paz said, “to the right.” Din nodded and pushed the controls forward, the Razor Crest hovering along the ground as he skirted around the edge of the forest. The frustration bubbled below the surface but he swallowed it back, kept the emotions in check, not something he was allowed to express.  _ Personal  _ emotions weren’t helpful. They fell into silence as they moved. But Paz’s voice broke that concentration.

“Are you okay?”

A hand came to the back of the chair and Din let out a harsh breath, grip tightened more on the joysticks. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Din.”

Paz’s voice was pushing but not commanding, more of an urge for him to talk than demanding he do so. Din straightened his shoulders and watched the trees go by. There was heat on his neck and shoulders, his stomach twisting, guilt and shame both knotting up inside him. “I don’t…” He let out a breath. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“About what?”

“The kid.” Din let out a breath. “He needs… what kids need. I can’t do that. I don’t know how to.” The words didn’t want to come and he cleared his throat instead. “Consistency and safety and… family. The only  _ consistency  _ we’ve had is never being in the same place and the same damn food every day.”

Paz’s hand on his pauldron was a sudden grounding and he glanced up at the other before shifting in his seat. “It’s just been hard,” he muttered. “I don’t know how to take care of a kid. Or one with powers. I just… don’t know.”

“He loves you,” Paz said. “You’re his  _ buir.  _ We’ve only known him a night and it’s obvious.”

“I hope,” Din muttered. “I think… he does. I don’t know what’s love or what’s reliance on me. Sometimes he seems to  _ know _ what I’m saying but I can never tell if it’s my words or my tone or if he can read my emotions. It’s a guessing game, all the time.”

“He’s your  _ ad,”  _ Paz said. “You’re someone he can trust, if not his father. Don’t underestimate your importance.”

Din frowned. “It’s… just been frustrating.”

“I get it.” Paz gave his shoulder a light push, then stepped forward and pointed forwards. “See the tunnel.”

Din leaned forward. The earth dipped down and an almost hill formed over it, trees growing that hid it from overhead. The opening was small, but Din was careful and precise as he brought the ship inside. It was dark within, but there were two other ships parked in the space and he planted down beside them. Din began to power down the ship. At least it wouldn’t be obvious that they were there. Paz turned and walked out, going to the ladder, as Din looked around. The Crest was powered down. Everything had been taken off. He let out a breath and got up.

Outside, he followed Paz out of the tunnel and into the sunlight. They began to walk towards the forest, met with the large-scale roots, and boosted on top of them. They’d only been away an hour at most, but Din still felt an eagerness to get back to his  _ ad’ika.  _ They leapt off the branch and began the flight back to their base. Paz led, Din taking the spot just behind and off his shoulder, and this area felt less like an impossible maze. There was more room to fly, more time to react. Din felt relieved.

The tunnel must have been closer than the field and they arrived back at the entrance, touching down, just as Jessa and Sair were pulling the last crate in. They followed inside to a flurry of activity. The crates were being opened and sorted through, the kids gathering around to look even as the adults shooed them away. Din looked first for his own baby, not seeing him amidst the others.

_ Cyar’ika,  _ he thought.

Something in his mind felt warm.

He walked around the crowding Mandalorians and came to the other side, where he saw the cradle had been placed with its contents still unmoved. The kid was at its base, hands placed against a leg, making small chirps before he turned and looked at Din. He let out a happy shriek, then turned again and pushed at the cradle, though it wouldn’t move. Din smiled to himself and walked over. He began to unload the cradle, taking out the jugs and rations.

The kid let out another cry, this time more impatient.

“I know, I know,” Din said. He grabbed a toy x-wing and handed it down to him.  _ “N'epar nu pirur.  _ Be patient. Play with that.”

The kid stared at the ship, then stuck a wing in his mouth and looked up to watch Din.

With the bedding clear, he reached down and picked the child up, placing him in it with his toys. “Told you I’d come back,” he murmured, leaning his elbows on the side of the cradle. It tipped down. “Were you good?”

The kid stared up at him and made a cheerful growl before grabbing a stuffed toy.

“He was fine.”

Din looked up at Nara and straightened. She gave him a nod and he returned it before she set a hand on the other side of the cradle. “He’s very sweet,” she said, her voice soft as she looked down at the kid. The boy turned to stare up at her like he knew he was the topic of discussion and made a soft coo. Din watched him.

“I’m glad,” he said. “He can be… fussy.”

“Not at all,” Nara said. He could hear the smile in her voice. “He’ll have to try harder.”

Din bit his lip, emotions masked as always with the helmet, and controlling that was never a problem with others. But it didn’t mask the unsettled feeling in his heart, that slight nervous edge, and he instead grabbed another toy to hold out to the kid. The baby turned and made a happy squeak before taking the toy, trying to hold both in his arms.

He hadn’t seen her in a long time. Only brief flashes, glimpses of each other, when Din returned to the covert with food, supplies and money and got what he needed before disappearing again. It was irritating, that boyish embarrassment from something that had happened years ago. But Din never claimed brilliance at social interactions. He just tried to get through them.

But the irony, taking form in the small green child between them, wasn’t something to miss. He wondered if she realized it too, staring down at the child.

_ “Beroya!” _

Din looked down and took a step for balance as a small weight all put slammed into his leg. Cass stared up at him with the big eyes of a five year old, giggling as he threw his arms around Din’s thigh and held on tight.

“You’re here!” Cass grinned, his brown hair a wild mess from helmet wearing and teeth missing.  _ “Buir  _ said to not think you were coming but I - I said you  _ always _ come!”

The pile of helmets flashed across Din’s mind. “I’m here,” he said.

Cass looked more than excited, then reached up and grabbed his hand, pulling. “Come play!” he said.

“Later,” Din said. “This all needs to be organized first, okay?”

Cass made a face, but nodded. “Okay,” he sighed, and let go of Din’s hand. He turned and stepped around the corner, going instead to the other children who sat together. Din let out a breath, then turned to see Nara had left and the kid was sitting down, sucking on a toy. They both looked at each other.

“Welcome to the family,” he said, before stepping away to help. Behind him, the kid giggled.

Their food supply now was so good that there was insistence on celebrating it.

Din didn’t know whose idea it was or if it was even a good one, but no one seemed to have qualms about it. No dissent was voiced about ‘celebrating’ what they had, though he remembered the days on Nevarro when they had those sort of things. Still secret, still private, but Din would be messaged to come home with a bit more food and drink to celebrate a birthday or anniversary. When it wasn’t his turn on the surface, foundlings were occasionally brought home and  _ those  _ were things to celebrate.

Foundlings who weren’t  _ her-  _ no. He stopped that thought as it came.

Aren and Jessa went through the food and water as Sair was sent outside, something in his hand. Din watched it all from where he leaned against the wall, the kid pattering around at his feet with his toys floating around him. He’d reluctantly shared a few, an uncertain look on his face when the other kids ran off with his prized companions. But Din had patted his back and murmured a  _ good job  _ and the kid just pouted as he turned back.

Food was then passed out, larger portions than Din had expected, and meal times were a more awkward affair than on Nevarro. With barely much privacy, the Mandalorians had to spread out, facing the walls, with an incredible amount of trust placed on everyone else to not look. But knowing the kid’s eyes would wander no matter what, Din simply took his portion and walked to the door. He went through and into the warm night air, surrounded by a cacophony of insects and their sounds, and sat on the grass.

He sat down with the child in his lap. He took off his helmet and set it down on the ground. The kid cooed in response and took his portion, though a sniff made his expression drop with the realization that it was nothing interesting. Din let out an amused huff and split the portions at half. “If you’re still hungry, you can have milk,” he said.

They both ate through the rations. Din still felt an underlying hunger but the kid finished his and also looked handsy for more. “Milk, then,” he said in a soft voice. “In a minute.”

The kid cuddled up in his lap, getting as close as he could get, as comfortable as he could get with Din’s front covered in beskar or firm padding. He managed and curled up there, whimpering softly, and Din ran a hand over him in gentle but firm rubs. The rations were packed with nutrition but kids wanted flavor rather than health. It seemed to be the trigger for screaming tantrums lately. Din could only sacrifice for perishable meat so often.

Several minutes later, the kid was nearly asleep, but there was movement from inside. Din grabbed his helmet and put it back on, then stood with the kid in his arms. Cautiously, he stepped back inside, then relaxed as everyone was up with their helmets on. As he did, Aren and Irin slipped past, going outside.

“You could’ve stayed.” Din turned to see Paz looking at him. “We’re going out there.”

“Out?”

“Sair went to get firewood.”

“Fire - aren’t you going to attract something?”

“We’ve done it several times,” Paz said. “The tree roots make a decent wall and we have our weapons.”

Din frowned.

“We can’t just stay in here and be miserable,” Paz said. “It’s a moment to enjoy. Join us.”

“... I will,” Din said. “But I’m getting milk for him.”

Paz nodded, then stepped past him to go outside.

As the rooms emptied, the kids delighted with the prospect of going outside, Din searched among the transported goods to find one of the favored bottles and the milk packets. Though the packets had no comparison to the taste of better milk, the kid had grown used to it and at least had flavor. The kid made soft whines as he was held in Din’s arm, his other being used to grab and fill the cup with water.

He closed the lid and shook it. The kid calmed, watching instead. Din gave him a gentle squeeze as it mixed and then stood, flipping the lid and adjusting the kid in his arm. He walked back outside, stopping at the sight.

The area was barely enough for them to be comfortable, but Sair was starting a fire in the center and some adults had taken seats on the lower roots around them. The children chased each other about until they were shushed and calmed, instead sitting together.

The flames burned like the fires of their forge as they came alive and Din took a seat on the ground nearby. As the others talked, Din adjusted the child in his arm who was reaching for the bottle and carefully tilted it for him to drink. Holding it steady, the child squirmed a bit but settled, taking sips, staring up at Din.

“He’s adorable,” Jessa said, a smile in her voice.  _ “Copikla.” _

Din smiled. “He’s not… something I expected to happen,” he said.

“He’s a foundling,” Aren said. “You never expect them.”

“But they’re worth fighting for,” Paz said, as he drew Kira into his lap. She curled up against him, thumb in her mouth, tiny compared to her  _ buir.  _

Din looked back down at the kid. He squirmed a bit, then pushed at the bottle, and he pulled it away. The kid made a soft coo as the fire popped.

“Djarin,” Trins said. They all looked at him. “Don’t be a liar. You  _ have _ to have stories about what’s happened since.  _ Gehat’ik  _ tax.”

_ “Gehat’ik  _ tax,” the other repeated with laughs.

Din stared at them, but smiled. “We haven’t done that…  _ tax  _ in years.”

“You haven’t had an interesting story in years,  _ vod,”  _ Aren said with a laugh. “So, we saved your ass on Nevarro. Tell us what’s happened since.”

Din let out an amused huff, then shifted. “Well,” he said. “We found a backwater planet called Sorg-”

He was cut off by the child, who let out an enormous belch that was almost impossibly loud for one his size. There was a moment of dead silence, only the fire crackling, as they stared at the kid. He wriggled about, letting out a coo.

Every Mandalorian lost it, breaking down into hysterics.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a Translations:  
> Yaim: home  
> Beroya: bounty hunter  
> Gar kar'taylir darasuum: I love you  
> Buir: mother/father (parent)  
> Ad: son/daughter  
> Ad'ika: little one/son/daughter  
> N'epar nu pirur: It won't eat or drink anything. (It can wait - no rush.)  
> Copikla: cute, adorable  
> Gehat'ik: story
> 
> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> I made a [discord](https://discord.gg/SJTzwqE)  
> if you want to chat with me!


	3. Lost and Found

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What business does a Mandalorian have on Ghivaal?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cyber school sucks, but at least I get to write this! Alternatively titled, "Din makes some friends".
> 
> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> I made a [discord](https://discord.gg/SJTzwqE)  
> if you want to chat with me!

The kid decided that no, he did  _ not  _ like this arrangement very much.

He had his reasons, of which he was perfectly justified, and was now firm in this opinion. The location was okay - the trees were pretty, though he didn’t really get to see them that much. The big people with helmets didn’t let the smaller ones outside, a sort of panicked tone in their voice when the small ones tried to escape and were carried back.

That had become a game then. To see if they could make it outside before the grownups caught them, one at a time, and once three kids had made it out before one of the grownups with a pretty voice had caught them.

And the food! Sometimes, when they came to a new place, his father would get them  _ better  _ food. Something tasty, the kind that he could dream about after, but this place had no such delights even when he cried and begged for it. His father felt regretful but there still wasn’t  _ good food  _ appearing. He wanted meat but each day was another ration bar, no matter what, and water. He couldn’t even get his milk all the time, only on occasion.

He liked his friends. He liked the big people with helmets. He liked that they were all so nice and attentive to him, and that they didn’t seem to be leaving soon. He always liked that. But he did  _ not like  _ that he saw his father less.

His father walked outside a lot with some others and would disappear for hours before coming back. The kid would play as he was gone, but always with an unhappy feeling about it. His father would return later, tired but still attentive, letting the kid sit in his lap and tell him all about the games he missed. He could tell his father hurt, because he moved a bit more slowly and would hold an arm or rub at a spot. But he wouldn’t let the child  _ heal. _

“No,” he was told, over and over when the child reached for the hurting spot. He was pulled away, set on the floor, away from his father. He didn’t  _ get it.  _ Why he couldn’t heal, because he’d been allowed to heal before. His father would disappear for a time and then return on the ship with hurting spots and he’d grumble but  _ let the kid heal him.  _ Those didn’t make him tired or sleepy. He couldn’t heal the bad things, but this wasn’t bad.

“They’re going to ask questions,” he’d be told, his father’s words whispered so others wouldn’t hear. “I’m fine.”

A tantrum could get what he wanted, but this would not be one of those moments.

Instead, he just wanted his father’s attention all day, like how it used to be on the ship, and he was determined for that to be  _ clear. _

Even after years of being out in the field, Aren could still get Din on his back.

Aren had grabbed him for paired patrol on the third day and dragged him out to an empty ring of space about half a mile from their base, promptly dropping his jetpack and weapons. “We’re sparring,” he said. “Hand to hand. No tech.”

Din had stared at him for only a moment before dropping his stuff, too.

Most threats were nocturnal, Aren insisted, so daytime patrols were essentially useless but for the privacy to spar. Din wouldn’t pretend to know better. It became a daily endeavor, and Aren matched him well. They had similar builds, muscular but lean, and both preferred speed over brutality. They put aside guns, knives, and flamethrowers, instead going at it with just strength and skill. They’d return home with bruises and soreness, taking care to stretch again and not tighten up. 

Din knew the kid was unhappy about him leaving - it was made obvious with how he whined when Din left and grumbled when he returned but sought hugs anyway. He pouted and reached for his injuries, despite Din repeatedly telling him not to do so. It wasn’t necessary, and instead helpful. Though the bruises hurt, it was a reminder of where he’d been vulnerable. He couldn’t afford to slip even if there was little danger around them.

But after a week on Ghivaal, he’d admit things were slow. There wasn’t a lot to do besides patrol, which was a boring task when only the nocturnal animals presented a threat. He couldn’t bring the kid, not with the risk that he’d think their matches were real and defend him. They couldn’t get much alone time, not when the covert was packed in together.

Instead, there was bath time.

The kid didn’t care much for baths, but it was the time when Din could get him clean as well as being alone together, a commlink connecting them to the covert. Din would give himself a wash, easing himself into the warm water of the small spring, allowing a few minutes before he scrubbed away dirt and sweat. Taking off his armor and layers was a hassle, but being free of the weight and feeling the breeze on his skin was a luxury. As he did so, the kid would wander about the area, tapping the ground with a twig. Once Din was dried off and half redressed, he’d keep his sleeves up and instead give the kid a wash, too.

The kid didn’t fuss, standing in the shallowest part of the spring with Din keeping a firm hold on him. He splashed about and cooed, delighted by the water, and Din smiled to himself. “Yeah, it’s fun,” he said, and the kid stared up at him for a moment before blowing a raspberry and splashing again. “To get me wet again.”

Din lowered him in further to clean off the soap, the kid letting out a shriek of delight, before he was lifted out. The kid pouted then and Din just chuckled as he wrapped the boy in a towel. “One day, you might know how to swim,” he said. The kid just closed his eyes as he was toweled dry all over. “But not today.”

He was redressed in his robe and immediately wandered to find his twig. Din watched him, wondering if Nara could size him and alter the robe to fit better. Not that he wanted to ask. But the kid could be more comfortable without being dwarfed.

Din was putting his vambraces back on when the screaming began.

His first instinct was to whip around and look for the kid. He was fine, bent over as he reached for his twig, and had frozen at the sound. His ears perked as he straightened, the screaming continuing, as if curious. He turned and looked towards Din, ears flattening.

It was a shrill sound. Terrified and feminine, no modulation. Not a Mandalorian. But the sound still put him on edge and he snapped his gloves back on before grabbing the nearby rucksack. He walked over to the kid and scooped him up with one hand.

“Aaaaah!” the kid cried, putting his hands against Din’s chest. He pointed towards the sound. It paused for a moment before resuming, so full of fear that Din felt a chill down his spine. The kid let out another yell, patting against him, as though to say  _ we have to help. _

Din stared at him. His stomach turned. “No. We can’t-”

_ Help. _

The kid stared back and Din let out a breath. It was another whisper at the back of his mind, no obvious voice behind it. The kid’s eyes were deep and commanding and he let out a huff before shoving the child into the rucksack,  _ “Fine.” _

The kid made a squeal, squirming, but then settled and cooed.

Din grabbed his blaster, tying the holster into place, then looped the straps of the rucksack around his arms so the bag hung at his front. He wrapped his arms around the kid and took a step before the jetpack gave him a burst into the air, towards the sound of the screaming.  _ Just recon,  _ he thought.  _ The kid is with me. _

The sound cut off. Din shot his feet out and landed on the nearest root, grabbing the tree’s trunk to balance, and the jetpack shut off. The screaming was gone but instead it was replaced with pained whimpers. It was a girl, he was sure of it, sounding at least somewhat human. He glanced down at the kid, then heard a yowl and another scream.

He didn’t think about it this time.

He launched off the root and flew towards the noise, pulling his blaster into his hand with another arm wrapped around the bag. The trees flashed past and then the source came into view. Two forest cats came into view - they had gorgeous pelts, but the sight sent chills down his spine, his still-broken vambrace feeling heavier. The cats were crowding a dug-out spot beneath the trees, a short cliff that arched inwards to create an alcove. Inside, he could see human legs, skin covered with blood. At least two people.

A cat swiped towards the opening. There was another short scream. Din tightened his jaw, his mind warring with itself, before one side won out and he raised his blaster.

Two, three, four quick shots to the skull, and one cat was dead.

The other turned and hissed, finding Din immediately and baring his fangs. It sat back, then sprang up towards them, claws scrabbling before grabbing onto a root. Din launched off the root and over it, flying to a higher branch. He landed on it and nearly stumbled, one arm tight around the bag, before firing two shots again.

The cat yowled as it was hit in the side. That stopped another pounce, but it recovered and leapt again. This time it came back closer and Din began to back up, breathless. It was a long way to fall if things took a turn. He kept his blaster trained on the cat, then glanced below.

Whoever was in the alcove had begun to crawl out.

He put his foot back on a branch with a sharp curve upwards. The cat had crept onto his branch and approached, holding itself low to the ground. Din took aim between its eyes and squeezed the trigger.

But it leapt across to another branch, making it shake. Inside the bag, the kid fussed.  _ Shit.  _ The cat eyed him like a delightful snack and he aimed again.

“HEY!”

It was a shrill scream from below, but the cat faltered for just a moment to look for the source and Din pulled the trigger again. It landed against the cat’s neck, earning a yowl, and another found its skull. After a moment, the cat fell forward, limp, and plummeted towards the ground. It landed with a soft yet resounding  _ thud  _ and Din let out a breath.

Then, he stepped off the branch and let himself fall, too.

He’d had much more practice since Nevarro and his jetpack flared to slow his descent, letting him touch down on the ground with only a step forward for balance. In the bag, the kid began to squirm. Din looked down at him, then lifted the top and the boy’s head popped out. He looked up at Din with a smile.

“Th-thank…”

Din turned towards the voice. In front of him was a young girl wearing a grey dress, made of intermixing fabrics. She looked to be fifteen or so, long dark hair tied back in a style. Behind her was a younger girl, hiding behind the other, looking terrified as she peered out at Din. But Din was much more concerned about where the dress had been split by claw marks across her abdomen, blood seeming to pour from the wounds, and she was  _ pale. _

The elder girl reached out as though to grab something, then collapsed into the grass.

The younger one let out a wail, in tears, as Din dropped to a knee and pressed his fingers to the girl’s neck for a pulse. It was slow but present. He looked up at the child - she was young, perhaps six or seven. “Where do you live?” he demanded. “Is your village close?”

The girl sobbed.

“Hey.” Din reached out and took her arm, trying to be gentle but get her focus. “Listen to me. She needs help. She lost a lot of blood, okay? If you tell me where you live, I can get you both there and save her.”

The girl stared at him, but then she pointed over his shoulder in the other direction. He turned to look, then nodded. He could see the trees thinned in that direction, and there must be a village beyond it. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. If we went that way, we’d get there?”

The girl nodded, then broke into more sobs.

“Hey, hey.” He squeezed her arm. “Keep looking at me. I need your help. I can fly us there, but…”

But there were three beings for him to carry.

He let out a breath, then reached up and took off the knapsack. “Put this on,” he said. He closed the top and pinned it shut tighter. The girl stared at him, but at his stern tone, turned around and held her arms out. He stood and looped the straps around her. “There’s a little guy in there, so you might feel him move.”

She just sniffled.

“Okay.” His mind was racing, adrenaline pumping, and he swore beneath his breath. He had nothing to pack the older girl with to stop the bleeding. He saw blood in the grass. It didn’t look like a  _ worst case scenario  _ \- with a short flight, she could have a good chance. With bacta and bedrest, maybe a good recovery. He snapped himself out of his thoughts. “... Okay. I have to carry both of you, so I need you to come here.”

The girl turned. Tears still streamed down her face. But at Din’s beckoning, she let him pick her up and hold her against his front. Automatically, her arms locked around his neck and legs around his waist. “Good,” he muttered. “... I have to use my arms to carry her, so you have to hold onto me. Hold on  _ really  _ tight. Got it?”

The girl nodded, her arms squeezing, her face already buried in his cape.

“Okay.” Din let out a breath, then took a step forward in his crouch. The girl didn’t budge. He reached down and slipped his arms beneath the teenager’s back and knees. He stood up slowly - she was heavy but manageable, and the girl on his front didn’t move still.

“He’s moving,” she whispered.

“That’s okay, sweetheart. I need you to keep holding on - bring your knees up higher.” She nodded against him and kept her arms tight, then moved her knees up on his sides. “Good.” He brought his elbows in to clamp down as best he can on her knees to try to grip her. “... Good. Keep holding.”

The position and weight strained his arms to trembling, but he just breathed out. “Okay,” he said. “Okay.” It took effort, but he managed to reach and touch his jetpack controls.

They shot up into the air. The girl let out a terrified yell and tightened slightly more, shaking badly. But he twisted himself in the air and sent them flying in the direction she’d pointed. Even with the wind, he could hear her sobs beside his helmet and into his cape.

_ Don’t drop them,  _ he thought desperately. He fought to keep holding the teenage girl, the strain becoming unbearable. The smaller one seemed secure by the strength of fear alone, and the kid was tucked away in the knapsack.

Then they shot out of the trees and the village came into sight.

It was small but with several huts, reminiscent of Sorgan. The area around was farmed, crops planted and growing, animals roaming on the other side within pens. There were dirt roads leading away. He saw people walking about in the center - and soon, all turned to stare.

About to drop the weight, he landed just twenty or so paces from the village and stumbled forward in the grass. He fell to a knee and placed the teenager’s lower half down, letting his arms rest. “You can let go,” he said. But the little girl’s limbs just squeezed him. “... Sweetheart, you can let go. It’s okay.”

Villagers were running towards them. The girl let go and looked up at him with a messy face, tears and snot mixed, but she ducked beneath his arm and grabbed his cape’s end instead. He picked up the teenager again, this time with a more secure hold, and stood to walk towards the villagers. He didn’t reach the town’s edge before there were several men in front of him, one in front of the others.

“Mika! Sani -  _ Sani!”  _ he cried.

“She’s breathing, but she’s lost a lot of blood,” Din said. “Do you have a doctor - or bacta?”

“Yes, we do,” the man said, voice full of panic. He turned and the crowd split to let them walk through. Din followed behind him, adjusting Sani in his arms. Then Mika ran up, still gripping Din’s cape, and reached for the man’s hand.

“Papa, he saved us,” she said. “He  _ saved us,  _ Papa.”

The man didn’t say a word, just took Mika’s hand.

He led Din to another building with an awning and porch. Inside were a few put-together beds with a lone woman as the building’s occupant, who jumped up as they stormed in.

“What’s going - Sani?” the woman gasped.

“She’s hurt,” Din said, walking straight to a bed to lay the girl down. Mika followed right along, refusing to let go. The front of his cuirass was bloody, the liquid smeared against the silver. He looked at the child. “No. Mika? Go over there.”

“But-” Mika whimpered.

“No,” he said. “Go. Everything is okay.”

“Mika,” her father called, and she gave his cape a tug before she ran over to him. The woman had come over to the side of the bed and now was fumbling for something in drawers beside it, muttering nervous nothings beneath her breath.

“Need to cut-” she said before pulling out a pitiful looking knife.

Din reached down. He pulled his vibroblade from his boot sheath and held the handle out. “This works better,” he said. He didn’t want to be the one to cut the clothes off a teenage girl, but he also wasn’t sure that they had time for those kinds of considerations. “Do you have bacta?”

“Some,” the healer said, taking the knife. “That drawer, there. With bandages.”

Din got up and walked over to a cabinet on the other side of the room, digging through for a container of the gel. He pulled out the clear jar and a handful of bandages before returning to the bedside.

“You’re a Mandalorian.” It came from the girls’ father, still at the door with Mika at his side.

“I am,” Din said. As the dress was cut away to reveal the whole wounds, it only seemed like more of a bloody mess. He was handed towels and started to clean away as much blood as he could.

“Why were you out there?” he asked. At first Din assumed it was directed at Mika, but then the question was repeated with, “What business does a Mandalorian have on Ghivaal?”

“I was around,” Din said. “I heard them. Came to help.”

“How can we trust that you’re here to  _ help?” _

“Because I’m trying to save your daughter’s  _ life  _ right now,” Din snapped. “Can we do this later? When she’s not on death’s door?”

The father fell quiet. Din tossed away another towel, sopping with blood, and could see the wounds better now. He grabbed the bacta container and opened it. But Mika let out a sob.

“Is she go… going to die?” she cried. “M-Mister Mandalan, is she - she going to d-die?”

“No,” Din said, keeping both voice and hands steady as he applied the bacta. The nurse backed off to give him the room to apply it to each slice. “No, I’m not going to let her die.”

The next few minutes were tense, but soon Din had a thin coating of bacta over each claw mark. This time, he stepped back and let the woman handle the bandages, careful in wrapping them around, tight enough without disturbing the layer.

Din watched, then a hand brushed against his arm and he looked down. Sani’s eyes were open but barely, staring at him with a haze. He brought his hand up and took hers, ignoring the mix of blood and bacta residue on his glove. “You’re okay,” he said. “You’re home.”

She made an incoherent mumble, then closed her eyes again.

With the bandages fixed, the nurse leaned back and let out a relieved breath. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you.”

Din felt his own relief. Then there was a tug at his sleeve and he looked down at Mika, who held the rucksack out to him. “He w-wants out,” she said, and the bag was shaking as the kid squirmed and whined. Din nodded and grabbed another towel, wiping his hands and his cuirass before he crouched down, took the bag, and opened it. The kid looked up at him and made a whine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Din said, and he lifted the kid out. The boy reached for him and he held him up to his shoulder where he was still clean. The kid made a contented growl and curled up there. Mika gasped, but there was a worn out look to her. Din looked up. “Hey. Maybe you should-”

She shoved forward and against him, squeezing him in the tightest hug she could manage. He froze, then tried to return it without smearing blood on her. “Thank you,” she whispered. Then she pulled back and pressed a kiss to the bottom of his visor before she turned and dashed back to her father’s side.

Din was frozen for a moment before the kid’s gurgles brought him back from the surprise. He stood up and looped the rucksack over his arm. He looked down at Sani again, who hadn’t moved but still breathed.

“Mandalorian.”

The girls’ father gestured outside, and Din gave the kid a glance before he followed. In the better light of the sun, he could see the blood smeared over his armor, the small size of the village, the young kids that ran and played though the adults looked over with guarded expressions. It reminded him of Sorgan, but… it was so different. The kid made a whine, then patted his belly.  _ Hungry.  _ Din made a mental note.

In the light, he could also see the man touch his hand to a miniature blaster on his belt. Din watched. He could probably fire five rounds at a time with it before a complete clip change. It was barely a threat.

“I just saved your kid,” he bit. “Don’t pull a gun in front of mine.”

The man’s eyes widened slightly and he glanced at the child in Din’s arm before his hand drifted past the blaster. “You might’ve saved them,” he said. “But that’s not enough for me to  _ trust you.” _

“I can understand that,” Din said. “They were in the forest. We were nearby. Heard screaming, went to check it out. They were being attacked by two of the forest cats.”

“They know not to go there,” he said with a scowl. He gave a pointed look to Mika, who stood in the doorway and quickly hid around the corner. Then he looked back to Din. “Why were you  _ nearby?” _

“That’s not information for me to give out,” Din said. “You don’t trust me, I don’t trust you. Best solution is I just leave now and we both forget that I was here. Sani heals, this conversation didn’t happen.”

“Sounds fine to m-”

“Nonsense.”

Both turned. A woman stood in the road, looking at them both. She looked older, long hair tied, wearing a woven dress like Sani’s and beaded jewelry. She looked between them, her gaze settling on Din.

“You saved two of our girls,” she said. Her voice radiated authority. “That is a debt we  _ must  _ pay.”

Din held in a sigh. “I have to go,” he said. “I don’t take your debt. There’s nothing I want.”

“It is not of  _ our  _ want. The Mother demands that debts be paid. If not, our crops fail and our people starve. We become a disease that may spread to our sister villages.” She gave Din a cross expression. “It  _ must  _ be done. Two young girls mean much to us. The repayment must be equal.”

Din frowned. At his shoulder, the kid made another whine, pressing his face into his arm. He gave the kid’s back a gentle rub, thinking about it. “... I have people to contact,” he said. “They’ll worry over us otherwise, but… some lunch could be a start.”

“A simple request,” the leader said. “But yes, a start.”

A weight crashed into his side. “You’re staying?” Mika shrieked, looking up at him. “You’re staying, Mister Mandalan?”

“Uh, yeah, I am,” Din said. “For just a little.”

Mika’s father coaxed her off him, giving him a still distrustful look, but it let Din walk off the porch and to the outskirts of the village. He took his commlink off his belt and pressed on the button. “Paz. Paz, Aren, it’s Din. Come in.”

There was a moment of silence. Then a  _ click  _ on the other end.  _ “Din?” _ Paz’s voice filtered through.  _ “Are you okay?” _

“I’m… fine,” Din said. The kid squealed at Paz’s voice. “But in a situation.”

_ “What situation? How’s the kid?” _

“The kid is with me, he’s fine,” Din said. He relayed the story of hearing the two girls and rescuing them. “... Now they owe me a debt and if I don’t let them pay it, their harvest apparently dies and screws them over. I don’t think they’d let me leave.”

Paz was silent. After a moment, he laughed.

_ “Paz,”  _ Din said. “Paz! I agreed to lunch because the kid’s hungry but - stop laughing! Stop. The debt’s equal to two kid’s  _ lives.  _ I don’t know what to do.”

_ “Only you, Din.”  _ Paz tried to stifle the laughter.  _ “You’re a Mandalorian bounty hunter. What firepower do they have that’s… that’s stopping you from just flying home?” _

Din frowned. “It feels… wrong,” he said. “To piss off the locals. They’re offering a debt.”

_ “A debt.”  _ Paz let out a breath, then there was a pause. Din could hear another voice in the background, barely audible.  _ “... Actually. Yes. You might have something there, Din. Standby.” _

Din frowned and looked down at the commlink. “Paz?”

He was only given silence. He frowned to himself and gave the kid a bounce, just waiting. The kid made another whine and scratched his claws against Din’s beskar, pouting.

The commlink crackled.  _ “It could be useful,”  _ Paz said.  _ “We haven’t had contact with that village yet. Do the lunch, ask whatever questions you can, make observations. Report to us after and we’ll go from there.” _

Din stared at the comm. “Wait. For what?”

Paz just laughed.  _ “Go have your feast, Din,”  _ he said.  _ “Manda knows that kid wants something more than ration bars. Be the hero for them. Vizsla, out.” _

“Paz-“ Din said, but the commlink connection was dead. He let out a sigh, then looked towards the forest. He saw three men walking towards it, each holding bladed poles while carrying large knives. With a sigh, he turned and began to walk back to the village.

He looked down at the kid. “Maybe there’s kids like Mika for you to play with,” he said.

The kid cooed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No Mando'a in this chapter!
> 
> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> I made a [discord](https://discord.gg/SJTzwqE)  
> if you want to chat with me!


	4. Making a Deal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Din navigates the villagers, waiting on contact with Paz.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> I made a [discord](https://discord.gg/SJTzwqE)  
> if you want to chat with me!

The villagers were serious about repaying debts. As the sun moved across the sky, the men from earlier returned from the forest carrying sacks, liquid dripping from within, and Din realized it was likely meat from the dead cats to cook. The meal prep took place in the center of the village over multiple fires, soon filling the air with delicious smells.

It really seemed like a feast rather than a simple lunch.

Din didn’t have to do more than sit in a chair on a porch before there was a whole group of kids running over, led by Mika, so eager and full of excitement that they were throwing question after question at him or saying hello to the kid in his arms.  _ What’s your name, your armor is shiny, where’d you get it, your helmet is cool, is that a jetpack, can you really fly, did you really kill two cats by yourself, are you a Mandalorian, what’s a Mandalorian-- _

He kept his patience and answered one at a time. They were disappointed that he wouldn’t give his name, but he told them about beskar and its importance. That Mandalorians were warriors who followed a certain way of life, and that he couldn’t remove his helmet in front of others. Yes, he had a jetpack, and yes he’d killed the cats. 

“Can he play with us?” a young boy asked, and Din nodded, but the baby’s claws were dug into his arms. He burrowed himself as tight against Din as he could. He made a whine when Din pulled at him, then a pouty grumble when Din let go. He shoved his face into the softness between Din’s side and bicep, firm in his decision to not move.

“He’s not in the mood,” Din said. “Maybe later.”

The kids pouted, but turned and ran off, content to play with each other. Mika stayed back, though, watching the kids, and instead sat down beside Din’s feet to fiddle with the tassels of her skirt. Din looked down at her, then adjusted the kid in his arms, who peeked down at her with one eye.

“Are you okay?” Din asked. She looked up at him. “You didn’t seem hurt.”

Mika shook her head, hair falling into her eyes. She looked down again, then back up. “Did Mother send you to help us?”

Din frowned to himself. The kid buried his face again, letting out a huff of discontent.  _ “Your  _ mother?” he asked.

“No, not - not momma.” Then she grumbled and got up, putting her hands on her hips as she looked at Din.  _ “The  _ Mother.”

“I don’t know who that is,” Din said.

“You  _ don’t?”  _ She stared at him with big eyes.

Din shook his head.

“Mother’s…” Mika frowned. Then she turned and pointed towards the forest on the other side of the village, opposite of where the covert had relocated. It was… darker than where he’d come from. He zoomed in with his HUD and saw that the trees were thicker, casting a darker shadow over the space. “She’s there.”

“In the forest?”

“Yeah.”

Din frowned. “They’re a… person?”

“No! Mother’s…” She paused again.  _ “Everything.  _ She likes the trees, so she stays there. She takes care of us. She takes care of all the people. We have… have water and food because of her. She’s nice. And protects us.”

She was  _ small,  _ and Din knew he couldn’t expect a solid explanation from a child so young. He was only starting to become vaguely sure that  _ Mother  _ was meant as a spirit, rather than an actual person. “Okay,” he said, “I see.” Mika nodded in satisfaction and he filed the information away until he could ask an adult.

Lunch smelled  _ good. _

Mika decided that showing Din hand games was the true entertainment for the present time - and Din tried to follow along, even with a baby in his arms that just wanted to be held. It was a combination of claps, touches to different parts of the upper body, following a rhythm. Sort of  _ follow the leader.  _ It delighted the girl and killed some time, until there were calls from the cooks for people to gather. From the huts and the fields, villagers began to gather inwards.

“Come on!” the girl called, grabbing Din’s hand and giving him a pull. Din snatched up the baby with one arm and let Mika lead him towards the food. The meat, vegetables and other treats he didn’t recognize were placed in buffet style. The villagers began to take plates - thin pieces of carved wood - and made a line, moving through to collect food. There were happy mumbles coming from the group and Din watched, Mika’s hand still gripping his, until a woman was walking towards them with a full plate.

“Here,” she said, holding it out to Din with a kind smile. It was certainly stacked with food, with meat and vegetables that smelled amazing. “So you don’t have to wait.”

“... Thank you,” he said, gently pulling his hand from Mika’s to take it. The kid leaned forward to sniff eagerly, reaching a hand. Before the woman could turn away, he cleared his throat. “I need somewhere to eat. In private.”

She paused, looking at him, and frowned. “You need…”

“I can’t take my helmet off,” he said. “Not in front of others.”

She stared at him for a moment in confusion, then bit her lip and looked around. “We have space in the medicine hut,” she said, “if privacy is what you need.”

“Thank you,” he said. He glanced back over his shoulder, then down at Mika as the kid whimpered for the food. “Is that where… Sani is?”

She nodded vigorously, then reached up and pulled on his arm. “I can show you!” she said. “It’s over back here, there’s curtain things, you can go behind those, I’ll show you-”

“I can do it,” Din said, keeping his voice gentle. “Thank you, Mika.”

Mika paused and frowned, but she let go of him and stepped back. “Okay,” she said, looking a little sad in the face until the woman beckoned her towards the food. With Din quickly forgotten, she ran over to get her own food and Din let out a breath.

Kids could be exhausting with their enthusiasm. But he couldn’t fault her for it.

He stepped into the medicine hut, looking the same as before. Their lone healer was wiping blood off the floor as Sani laid in the bed, asleep, healing with the bacta and rest. Din took a moment to look her over, scanning through his HUD for anything they may have missed, but there didn’t appear to be any further issues. The cat had done damage, but he had faith in a full recovery.

In his arms, the kid did not care for anything at all that was not the food.

The healer looked up at him, but a quick explanation that he needed privacy was enough for her to wave him off and continue trying to clean up the blood. An indifferent reaction to his lifestyle was better than hostility. As Mika said, the other end of the hut had thin wooden frames with cloth hanging down that could act as a curtain, and Din rolled it out before sitting on the floor. He sat down behind it, back against the wall, and set the plate down with the kid in his lap.

The kid made a whine, floating a piece of charred meat drenched in sauce towards him. Din grabbed it out of the air and set it down, earning a shrieking cry with whimpers that threatened tears. “I know, I know,” he muttered, lifting off his helmet. He settled it down by the curtain, turned out - a habit, warning others that the helmet was off and he was exposed. He pulled off his gloves, one arm keeping the kid in place, and then grabbed the piece of meat. He tore it into smaller pieces, feeding it to the kid, who grabbed it out of his hands to gnaw on. Din tore his own piece to eat.

The meat was… delicious. The sauce, whatever it was, had spice that left a brief tingle in his mouth. It was nothing like a Mandalorian dish, but it was less bland than what Din often bought to feed them with and better than their rations. The kid smacked his lips and made a whine, reaching for more.

“Be patient,” Din mumbled. He pulled off another piece before he halved it, giving the smaller one to the kid. They went through it quickly, until the kid let out a low, mindless whimper. He was mouthing on air, tears in his eyes, looking uncomfortable. He looked up at Din, taking quick breaths. But he didn’t look  _ upset. _

Din swallowed his piece. “What’s wrong?” he murmured, adjusting the kid on his leg. “Spicy?”

The kid just looked at him, tongue out as he breathed.

Din rubbed his back. It wasn’t a surprise that something mild for him was too much for the baby, and he instead plucked a different bit of meat off the plate. It wasn’t touched by the sauce, and Din took his own bite - not spicy. He held the rest out to the kid, who began to gnaw on it, tears blinked away as he chewed.

They worked their way through lunch together. When the unspiced meat disappeared, Din wiped off the sauce from some pieces to give. The kid still had teary eyes and sniffed, breathing out, but didn’t hesitate to grab the next piece Din gave him. Eventually, he heard the healer walk out of the hut with the  _ whoosh  _ of the door’s curtain falling. The kid stopped, still chewing, and looked up at him.

Din looked out, then adjusted the kid before he leaned beyond the curtain. The healer was gone, leaving them as the only two occupants besides the girl in the bed. Sani was still asleep, facing the other way. A mumble fell from her lips, too quiet and slurred to be understood. Outside, the chatter of the village went on, leaving their building to be like an untouched bubble of peace.

He hoped Paz would have the courtesy to contact him soon.

He leaned back. In silence, he and the kid worked through the rest of the plate, until there was nothing left but pools of the spiced sauce and the contentment of full bellies.

Paz  _ did  _ contact him. Only after hours of him seeming to simply  _ exist  _ in the village.

There was little for him to do; the kid could be entertained for only so long, the children could only sit for so many stories, and while the adults were kind to him at face value for what he’d done, there was clear distrust of his true intentions. Most were working in the fields with the crops and animals, leaving him either alone with the kid or surrounded by children who had come back for another story of the galaxy beyond their world.

He was bored. He was  _ very bored. _

_ “Din?” _

Din got to his feet, grabbing the commlink off his belt. The kid was playing in the dirt nearby and he stopped, his stick in hand, and looked up at him with lifted ears. “Paz?” he said.

_ “Are you okay?” _

“Fine. What’s going on there? Is there a plan?”

_ “A sort of plan.” _

“What do you mean,  _ sort of?”  _ The kid wandered over to him, grabbing at his boot and making a  _ coo  _ as he recognized Paz’s voice. Din looked down at him.

_ “We don’t have a lot of information on these people. The only plan we can make at this point is playing it by ear. What do you know about them so far?” _

Din paused, then looked around. “They’re not very trusting,” he said. “There’s healthy skepticism. Lots of kids around. They farm the land and take care of animals.”

_ “How many people?” _

“Forty… to fifty adults. Kids are ten to twenty. They’re a decent size. Apparently have  _ sister villages  _ around the region. There’s… something they refer to as  _ Mother.  _ I think it’s a deity they worship, or an entity that believe lives in the woods.”

_ “Hm.”  _ Paz’s voice was thoughtful.  _ “They have resources?” _

“They seem to be doing fine.”

_ “Alright. Wait for us.” _

“Wait for - wait. Paz-”

Again, the commlink went dead, and Din sighed. He clipped it back onto his belt and crouched down in front of the kid, lifting him into his arms. “Guess we’ll find out what this plan is,” he grumbled, and the kid just made a happy coo before smacking his hands against Din’s helmet. He giggled and Din let his eyes close. “Yeah. I’m worried, too.”

But they weren’t left waiting long. The kid was growing tired in Din’s arms when there were white streaks across the darkening sky, two beacons of light that soared above from the forest. They didn’t pass over, instead turning in the air to drop down in the center of the village. Paz and Aren landed one after the other, both with grunts, before they straightened.

“Hey,  _ vod,”  _ Aren said, a grin in his voice as the kid squealed. He squirmed against Din’s arms until he was forced to be let down, and the little tyke hurried towards the two as fast as he could. Paz bent down to a knee and scooped him up, a sucker for the little ones, as Aren walked over to him. “Heard you got yourself into a situation.”

Din sighed. “You can call it that. What’s the plan?”

“What we’re thinking is that this place could be useful for resources,” Aren said. Paz walked over, the kid cuddled up in his arms. “For trading. An alliance, to put a word to it.”

Din frowned. “I told you, they aren’t trusting,” he said. “I was in the middle of saving a girl’s life from her injuries and her father was still concerned about me having ulterior motives. They won’t just-”

“What is this?”

The three turned to look. The village’s matriarch stood several feet away, her eyes narrowed with suspicion and fists at her side. Din let out a breath as Paz stepped forward, the baby cooing in his arms. “We are Mandalorians,” he said. “We’ve come here with hopes to-”

“I was not asking you,” she bit. Paz stopped, staring at her, and he shared a look with Aren before her gaze shifted to Din. “You. Explain this.”

They glanced back at him. Din swallowed, then stepped up, between Paz and Aren to stand in front of them. “This is… my family,” he said. “Some of them. These are my brothers. I swear to you, they aren’t here to do harm.”

She looked at him with a hard expression, then past him towards Paz and Aren. Both, wisely, stayed quiet. “And that means we are to trust them?” she demanded. “By your word only?”

Din put his hands up in surrender. “Please,” he said. “We only want to discuss things. A possible relationship between our groups.”

“Relationship,” she said, eyes narrowed. Her voice dripped with suspicion, and other villagers began to show up behind her. They gathered around their leader with the same shared suspicion, glaring in silence at the Mandalorians in front of them.

“Our last home,” he said, and he took a deep breath. “It… was destroyed. We lost many people. We’re trying to build a new home now, to protect ourselves and our children. I can assure you, we aren’t a threat, and… a working partnership between us. It can help both groups.”

“Difficult to trust the words of men who will not show their faces,” she scowled.

“What about a man you owe a debt to?”

She stopped then, frowning, and her eyes flickered between Din, Paz, and Aren. The kid had grown tired of the excitement and was curled up in Paz’s arm, face buried in the warmth of his elbow, drifting to sleep. The woman continued to watch them, before she let out a breath. “We are obligated to honor a debt,” she said. “But what do we hope to gain from this…  _ deal?” _

“We are warriors,” Aren said. “It is our way of life. Two of your children were hurt by the cats in the forest. We can help protect against them. We have tools and weapons to provide any sort of protection you may need. Against wild animals, against other people, we can defend this place.”

“But you could not defend your home.”

Din tightened his jaw, his fists at his side. For not the first time in his life, he was relieved to have a helmet to hide his expression. “No,” he said. “We could not.”

The leader watched him. Her gaze was piercing, and the tension in the air was near unfathomable. The villagers were dead quiet behind her, their watching eyes the only real indicator that they’re  _ there  _ \- Din can feel their gazes on him. In the crowd, he saw Mika, held tight by her father. His heart pounded in his chest and he took in another breath to calm himself, to keep steady.

“We can help each other,” he tried again. “There is strength in numbers. And if you could help my people… it would be more than a debt paid.”

Silence stretched between them. Behind them, the sun began to set. It seemed to drag on forever until the woman nodded, a solemn expression on her face. “We will discuss it,” she said. “As to whether this is truly in the best interest of our home.”

Din felt the tension leave his shoulders. “Thank you,” he said. “That’s enough for now.”

“Come back tomorrow,” she said. “When the sun sits in the sky, we may have our answer for you, Mandalorians.”

Din nodded. He stepped back towards Paz and Aren, feeling his heart continue to beat in his chest. The kid slept in Paz’s arms now, undisturbed, as the Mandalorian stroked his ear. The crowd of villagers began to disperse, disappearing into their homes, and Din saw Mika with her father as she gave him a sad look and a wave. Aren stepped up beside Din, arms crossed.

“That was decent,” he said. “They’ll think about it. Nice job, Djarin.”

Din grumbled. “I’m not a diplomat.”

“That was fine.” Paz clapped him on the shoulder. Din turned to look at the kid, slumbering away in Paz’s arms, and held his arms out. Paz gave him over with care, and Din let the baby lie against his shoulder, shifting but undisturbed. He rubbed his back, feeling nothing short of exhausted.

“We should go,” he said.

“Good to fly, there?” Aren asked.

“I’m good.”

Din fetched the knapsack off the nearby porch and carefully placed the baby into it. The kid’s eyes peeled open, but he just gave Din a tired squint before curling up at the bottom of the bag, exhausted. Din looped the straps over his shoulders and gave the kid a gentle rub through it. They began to walk towards the fields, the sounds of insects surrounding them. They each flicked on their helmet lights, reaching for jetpack controls that set the rockets to blaze.

“Race home?” Aren said, looking over.

Din huffed. “I’ve got the ki-”

“Get flying,” Paz said.

“Hey!” Din snapped as the two launched off the ground, jets flaring as they shot into the air towards the forest. He watched, letting out a sigh, then looked down at the kid. He didn’t stir, dead to the world as he slept, and Din carefully adjusted the bag.

Then he took a running start and shot into the sky after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait on this one! But I'm officially a high school grad and hopefully I'll have more time to spend on this story. All the interest in this lil fic has been _amazing_ and more than I expected, thank you <3
> 
> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> I made a [discord](https://discord.gg/SJTzwqE) if you want to chat with me!


	5. Partnership

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aren nodded, and there was a smile in his voice. “Let’s talk logistics, then.”
> 
> The Mandalorians and the villagers work out a deal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Preparing for college has been rough but an update is here!
> 
> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> 

“Who are these people?”

“Why should we trust  _ them-” _

“What’s with this spirit thing?”

“Calm down,” Paz snapped, and the Mandalorians fell silent. Din watched the exchange from the side, leaning against the wall as the kid drank his milk with fervor. His recounted experience with the village hadn’t been all that comforting for their people, not that it was much of a surprise. “Nothing is happening yet. They haven’t accepted this.”

“I don’t see  _ why  _ we would need them,” Trins said, a scowl in his voice. “We’re doing fine on our own. We don’t need  _ locals  _ to save us.” Grumbles of agreement rose up, and the kid shifted in Din’s arms, looking up at him as he drank. Din adjusted him.

“This isn’t about us  _ needing  _ help,” Paz said. “It’s us forming a safety net.”

“Our secrecy is our strength!”

“You think these people have the ability to hurt us?”

“They have a few blasters,” Din said. “Other than that, it’s mostly farm tools. There’s no significant defense.”

The Mandalorians looked at him, then each other. The children clung to their guardians, looking confused at the tension, though the kid paid it no mind. The Mandalorians were just as untrusting as the villagers if not more, and had the history to back up their paranoia. Din would admit that the plan of, essentially, a merger was… laced with tension from both sides.

“We revealed ourselves once, and it came back on us,” Sair said. “This feels like another risk we can’t afford, Paz. If they play friendly now, what’s stopping them from turning on us as soon as they think their debt to Din is paid?”

“We’re not going to put all our credits in on this,” Aren said. “We don’t intend on moving our covert. We aren’t going to bring the children near them. We want to ease into this with caution and see if we can build a relationship that  _ doesn’t  _ hinge on a debt.”

“And if we can’t?”

“Then we can’t. We come back here, live on our own as we did.”

“But they’ll  _ know  _ about us!”

“They don’t come in this far,” Din said. “They’re afraid of the cats. They can’t defend against them, not multiple at once. They won’t risk their numbers to come after us - if they can even find us.”

“And jetpacks are the best way to navigate through this place,” Aren said. “It’s a sport to get anywhere if you’re on foot and climbing over those roots.”

There were further discontented mutterings and the Mandalorians exchanged glances. “This is a risk,” Trins said. “A real risk.”

“A calculated one,” Aren said. He crossed his arms. “And I’m good at math.”

The next morning came with lessened, but still existent tension. Breakfast was had amongst the tribe, backs turned, trust given and kept. The baby was sleepy in Din’s arms, breathing deep and loud through his nose, barely roused by the prospect of rations. His preference was to bury his face in Din’s thigh, refusing to turn as he laid in his lap, and Din simply left him a portion as he ate. Finally, when most were placing their helmets back on, the kid rolled over to be fed. He was slow to chew, but he accepted the rations.

There was time to kill before returning to the village, and with hesitation, Din cradled the kid and watched Nara from across the room. She was again going through their medical supplies, shuffling through a bin where bandages, bacta and other packaged items sat. He adjusted the kid in his arms, petting his back as he snoozed, and weighed the pros and cons of approaching her in his mind. He looked down at the kid, tired and grumpy about it, then brought him up to his shoulder to be held. The kid made a vocal grumble about the position change, but fell quiet as Din got up.

He walked across the room, stopping beside her. “Excuse me,” he said, his voice soft but firm, and she turned to look up at him.

“Djarin,” she said, her voice even.

He crouched down beside her, evening their height. The kid turned in his arms then, looking at Nara with curiosity, even as he cuddled against Din. Nara watched them, then sat back on her heels. “What is it?” she asked.

“You sew,” Din said. “Or. Did.”

“It’s been a while.”

“If you could…” he paused. He brought the child down to his lap, resting on his thigh plate, and the child made another frustrated huff at being moved. “He doesn’t have other clothes.”

“I noticed,” Nara said.

“Well, you can sew, and… you’ve made clothes before. For me. If you could… if I could get the materials, I’d like him to have something else to wear. This is getting worn out.”

Nara looked at him for a moment, then down to the child. The boy looked up at her with tired eyes and reached a hand up to rub at them. “He does need something else,” she agreed. “You can only wash it so many times. But I don’t have any material.”

Din looked down at the kid, then at her. “The villagers might have something to spare,” he said. “If not, I can get material if we ever need to go offworld.”

“If this village thing works out,” she muttered. But she shook her head, turning her attention back to the bin. “Yes. I can make something for him then, if I have enough material and the tools to make clothing.”

“Then I’ll get something,” he said.

She nodded, and the conversation ended there. Din didn’t linger, getting up and cradling the kid, who again scowled at being moved. His heart still felt prominent in his chest, an electric jump in his fingers beneath his skin, but he came away from the conversation without humiliation. He walked back to their corner of the room, taking a deep breath, feeling the kid’s heart thump through the hand on his back.

He wished these feelings would go away, like they were meant to.

It took time before he, Paz, and Aren prepared to fly to the village. With jetpacks on, they readied themselves with weapons and equipment checks, making sure they lacked nothing they could need. The kid was, fortunately or unfortunately, remaining home. He pouted and whined at this, and made several attempts at escape, to slip out and join them. “No,” Din told him over and over. “You stay here. You’ll get bored anyway.”

Again, he got a huff and a scowl and he walked the boy back inside, with a grumble of “would someone  _ watch him?” _

But soon they made it off the ground and were flying through the forest. Aren and Paz had better confidence of dodging the trees and Din flew on Aren’s trail, paying close attention to every movement he made to copy it. They shot past the springs, the tunnels formed by bent trees, taking sharp jerks to avoid the roots that came from nowhere. His foot caught on a branch and he hissed, toes curling in pain, fists at his side.  _ “Osik.” _

“Din?” Paz called. His voice hummed from the commlink, a look thrown back towards him.  _ “Me’vaar ti gar?” _

“Fine!” he called back. He gritted his teeth and just flexed his foot in his boot, calming his breath. It pulsated. But he didn’t need it to fly.

They reached the villagers a few minutes later, shooting out from the trees into the openness of the field it resided in. They eased down onto the ground, jetpacks roaring with flame, all three shutting off once their owners had landed. Din looked around - they were alone now, but between the houses he could see the fields where the villagers’ attention was drawn.

Aren turned on him without a second to waste. “You good?” he demanded. His gaze dropped to Din’s foot, which was lightly held off the ground. “Djarin, don’t tell me-”

“I’m fine-”

_ “Mandalan!” _

The cry was barely any warning before a small weight crashed into him, and with his own weight held on one side, it sent him to the ground with an  _ “oof”  _ and a laughing little girl on top of him. “Hi!” Mika said, grinning at him, before she quickly climbed off and got up. “You’re back!”

Din pushed himself up, getting to his feet, willing to put more weight on the aching foot. “I am,” he said, sucking in a breath. “... Hi, Mika.”

Mika turned her gaze on the other two. “You’re Mandalans, too!” she said, reaching out to grab Din’s hand as though this was an established camaraderie between them. She rocked back and forth on her heels, a grin on her face as her hair fell in her eyes.

“We’re  _ Mandalorians,”  _ Paz said, his voice gentle in the correction.

Mika looked at him, then up to Din. “Where’s buddy?” she asked, tugging on his hand. “Did you bring him?”

“Buddy?”

“The green buddy!”

“No. He’s home.”

Mika pouted, but then turned and looked back up at Paz and Aren. “He saved me!” she said, pulling on Din’s hand again as she leaned her weight on it. “Me and my sister, Sani! We were looking for berries and this mean cat attacked us, it hurt her but he saved us!”

“We heard all about it,” Aren said, a smile in his voice as Paz nodded in agreement. “You sounded very brave.”

Mika blushed with a grin, but around the corner came the village’s matriarch and some part of Din was relieved. They’d indulge the girl for hours if she so demanded. Another man wearing a light fabric poncho stood behind the matriarch and with Din’s look, Aren and Paz turned. Mika peered around them, then stiffened, raising her chin to stand as tall as she could at her height. The matriarch eyed them with a stern expression, the poncho-wearing man’s hand down by the small blaster on his belt.

The Mandalorians shifted into a line, remaining open but with access to their weapons - sans Din’s hand, still claimed by Mika beside him.

“We have discussed this… offer of alliance,” the matriarch said, and she paused, looking between them all. “Our ways compel us to honor any and all debts we may incur. The lives of two young girls are no small debt to us. They are our future.”

“Children are the future,” Aren said, and Din and Paz both nodded in agreement.

“We also recognize the strength of your people,” she continued. “Mandalorians are known as warriors. And there are threats all around us in these dark times - the forest has changed. While an alliance means opening our home to you… it may help us keep that home.”

The Mandalorians shared a glance. “What threats?” Paz asked, and Mika’s head jerked up. She pulled on Din’s hand and stood on her toes.

“The cats,” she whisper-yelled. “The bad cats!”

“The cats,” Aren repeated. “We’ve killed a few.”

The villagers shared glances. “It takes many of our men to kill one,” the matriarch said. “If there is more than one, we have no choice but to hide.” She pointed to the sky. “As more ships come, they bring hunters with them. They are after the pelts of the cats’ prey.”

“Less prey, more hunger,” Paz said. “They’re attacking you.”

“Bolder by the day.” It came from Mika’s father now, to the side, and Mika let go of Din’s hand to go over to him. He lifted her into his arms. “Our own lands seem to shrink. There is nothing we can do.”

The Mandalorians looked at each other again. Din spoke up. “We have weapons,” he said. “Yours don’t have enough power to do damage. We can take care of that.”

“How many of you are there?” the matriarch asked.

“Fourteen, including children,” Aren said. “Eight of us can fight. One is expecting a child.”

Din’s head jerked over. “What?” But Paz only gave him a light elbow.

“We have the resources to share,” another villager said. Din recognized her as the healer who had treated Sani.

“And this will fulfill our debt to you,” the matriarch said, and Din nodded. “In this case… we accept.”

Aren nodded, and there was a smile in his voice. “Let’s talk logistics, then.”

Mika was latched to him. As soon as the villagers dispersed to return to their activities, she was latched onto his hand again, following wherever they went. As they were toured to see what the village could offer, she was right at his side, gripping his hand and twiddling with his fingers absentmindedly.

Not that Din hadn’t gotten used to that sort of thing. The kid did it whenever he was bored.

The village  _ was  _ impressive, more so than had been Din’s first impression. While there were small reminders of Sorgan around, the village was ultimately more advanced than the krill farmers had been. Their crops grew in large, straight fields. Adults and children alike walked carefully over them to water. Animals were penned, with a few barns that held food supply and tools. Some were more advanced tech - small things to help make large-scale farming easier. 

“We can build more homes for your people,” they were told.

“Anything with real  _ walls  _ would be wonderful,” Paz said.

“You’re going to live here?” Mika asked, looking up at Din with an excited grin. “Are you gonna bring buddy?”

“If we live here,” Din said with a nod. “He’ll be with me.”

He couldn’t remember getting to live out in the open like this. Sorgan, for a few weeks, but… not much else. His home city was large, at least in his memories. His life with the Mandalorians had been mostly underground. When they’d been forced out, it was a jarring experience. As capable as he was of navigating the galaxy - he’d been taught to survive, after all - it was still a horrific adjustment to go from one life to another. Living underground in the sewers was the only option to stay alive.

But things kept changing.

They were used to it now.

Mika pulled on his hand again with a sudden urgency. Din looked down. “Sani’s awake,” she whispered, and she started to walk backwards, pulling on him. “You can say hi!”

Din looked at her, then at the others. “Maybe later,” he said. “We’re doing this now.”

“But she wants to see you!” She pulled harder, trying to dig in her heels and pull. Din barely bent, and her heels just slipped instead, falling if not for her grip on his hand. “Mandalan! Come on!”

Paz chuckled, and Din looked at him. Aren and a village builder were deep in conversation. “Indulge them,” he said, “I would take the excuse myself.”

Din frowned. “Come  _ on!”  _ Mika said, and Din nodded before turning to her.

“Okay,” he said. “We’ll go see her.”

Mika jumped on her toes with an excited grin, and Din couldn’t help but smile. Her youthful joy felt infectious. He found himself thinking of Winta as he was led back towards the center of the village, and though Winta was much older than Mika, he could see potentially shared characteristics between them at this age.

Or maybe he could see it in who he himself had once been.

They walked through, passing the other villagers who still looked at him with scrutiny but less fear. He began to recognize the area, though from a different angle, as they returned to the medicine house and stepped onto the wooden porch. Mika ran in, shoving aside the curtain door, with a shout of “Sani!”

Din paused outside the door, praying for a moment to whatever deity that it wasn’t a bad moment to walk in. He reached out and moved the curtain aside. Sani was propped up on pillows in bed - fully clothed. She looked tired and grumbled when Mika jumped onto the bed.  _ “Stop-” _

He stepped in.

Sani’s attention snapped up to him, her expression morphing from annoyance to surprise. “... Hi,” she whispered, trying to straighten up until she winced.

“Hi,” he said. He let the curtain fall behind him and walked over. “Mika said you were awake.”

She nodded, swallowing before she smiled. “I am. Th… Thank you. You saved us. Saved me.”

He nodded and sat in the chair beside the bed. Mika sat curled up on the edge of the bed, watching them. “I happened to be nearby,” he said. “Do you remember what happened?”

Sani looked at him for a moment, but her eyes drifted down and she shook her head. “I remember… you,” she said. “When you came. But not anything… not anything else.”

Din nodded. “You were in shock,” he said. “That’s normal.”

“You’re a Mandalorian,” she said.

“I am.”

“What is your name?”

“I can’t give you my name,” he said, and Mika frowned at that, too. He looked at them both. “My tribe has to… protect itself. We don’t give our…  _ true  _ names to anyone on the outside, just like we don’t remove our helmets in front of others. It keeps us safe.”

“But you  _ have  _ a name!” Mika said. “Right?”

“I do,” Din said with a nod. “I have a name.”

“Then what do we call you?”

“... Mando,” he said. “People default to Mando.”

“What’s ‘default’ mean-”

“Mika, shut up.”

The sisters huffed at each other while Din leaned back. Names…  _ were  _ going to be a problem. The Mandalorians used their own names among themselves - it was a respect to each other having their own identity, and also out of practicality. It hadn’t been a problem on Sorgan or anywhere else where he was the only Mandalorian.

“We might have to figure that out,” he said. “There’s other Mandalorians. We can’t all be called the same thing.”

“A nickname,” Sani said with a small smile.

“Yes,” he said. “I suppose.”

“Silver!”

Both looked at Mika. Mika looked between them, then to Sani. “Silver’s a… a color, right?” she whispered. “Shiny?”

_ “Silver?”  _ Sani grumbled.

“Yeah! Silver!”

“Uh,” Din muttered. “I think there’s a better-” But the willful eyes of a child stared back at him and he leaned back in the chair. “Silver, okay. Sure.”

His  _ vode  _ were not going to let him move past…  _ any  _ of this.

“He flew us back!” Mika said, looking at Sani. “He can fly!”

“Jetpack,” Din said beneath his breath.

“Thank you,” Sani whispered. “Really. Thank you.”

Din gave her a nod. “How do you feel?”

“Awful,” she said. “Can’t really… move.”

“The bacta helped, but it isn’t a complete miracle,” Din said. “Rest.” But he knew that he certainly wouldn’t take his own advice, and it was said more out of… expectation. “Your father was worried.”

“He’s always worried,” Sani muttered, shaking her head. “It’s normal.”

_ Part of the job,  _ Din thought, the kid coming to mind.

Not long after, he left the medicine house as Sani grew tired and Mika with her. "Bye, Silver," the girl had called, and Din mentally kicked himself. But for all their bickering, Mika was curled up at Sani’s side, and Din wondered for a brief moment what it could have been like to have siblings like that.

He had siblings, in a way. The boys and girls in the Fighting Corps had been his brothers and sisters on a level - and blood was not something the Mandalorians held dear, not when adoption was so integrated into their societal workings. His tribe now was his family, all siblings to each other in an unspoken way.

But he’d never had a blood sibling.

Well, he had.

But there had been no time there.

With heavy thoughts on his mind, Din retraced his steps back to Paz and Aren. They still spoke with the builder, and X’s were now marked in the dirt for potential housing locations. Aren was explaining size needed while Paz looked on, and Din walked over to him.

“How’s the girl?” Paz asked.

“Good,” Din said. “On the healing path.”

“It’s good that you were there,” Paz said. “It can take more than one of us to take those things down. Those girls would have been a meal.”

“The kid wanted to help,” Din said. “I was going to ignore it. I didn’t know what it was. The kid was insistent.”

“Smart one,” Paz muttered. “... Something to do with those powers.”

Din watched the builder and Aren. He set a hand on his belt. “Are we moving here?” he said. “We told the others we weren’t moving the children. They’re not trusting.”

“Not the children,” Paz said. “But if we’re helping defend this town, we can’t leave each night. We’ll convince the others. Let the little ones stay where they are until we’re all certain that it’s safe for them.”

“I didn’t know Mari was expecting.”

Paz glanced at him. “We’ve been talking about it,” he said.

“Guess I… missed it.”

He could feel Paz’s eye roll. “We’re going to need an off-world trip for supplies,” he said. “A village like this is better than what we have for a birth, but still might fall short. We’ll get situated here and then take care of that.”

“How long?” Din asked. “When did you know?”

Paz was silent for a moment. “We’ll have… more months,” he said. “Our estimate is five more months, but Nara isn’t confident in that. We need more equipment. More understanding. None of us have handled one of these before.”

Cass was the youngest of their tribe to be born a Mandalorian. But not born in the covert. Din remembered being home when Jessa had guided Sair back to their hideaway, his toddler nephew huddled in his arms, dirty and looking at them all with fear. No, they’d never handled a birth themselves. And Nara certainly wasn’t trained for that.

“Savil would have known,” Din said, shifting his jaw.

“Yeah,” Paz muttered. “He would’ve known. But they all march on. This is the Way.”

“This is the Way,” Din said quietly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
> Osik -- shit  
> Me'vaar ti gar -- how are you? / lit. what's new with you? / also asking for a sitrep
> 
> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)  
> 


	6. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Mandalorians settle into the village as Din and Nara are sent on a mission.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)

“Look like home, little guy?”

The house was small. It was one floor, one circular wall, and a roof. Two beds had been laid inside for them - one normal-sized, the other smaller that was beside it for the baby. Stone slabs had been laid to create a hearth. There was a workbench for projects, another square table to eat at with stools.

The child stood in the center, taking it all in.

Din and Aren were in the doorway, the door coming in the form of a curtain. The baby turned to look up at Aren, then wandered towards his new bed. He let out a few babbles before climbing into it, patting at soft fur blankets. He looked towards Din and let out another string of gibberish, smiling.

“Might be the new home,” Din said.

They stepped outside again. The sun was shining but the breeze was cool, their suits working to keep temperatures comfortable. The baby toddled out after them, letting out a few squeaks, right at their heels. The village was alive for the day, kids laughing and adults talking, and the two Mandalorians turned to look at the newly constructed housing. It was good quality, if half-finished in entirety. The villagers knew how to build.

“I have a good feeling about this,” Aren said.

Din looked at each identical house. The sound of a scorching jetpack drew their attention and they looked over as Trins approached, slowing in the air until he could float down to the ground. His boots hit and he walked over, a datapad in his hands. “We mapped out the village perimeter,” he said, and held up the datapad. “All in here. We looked down that way-” he pointed where he’d come from, where the two edges of the forest seemed to create a natural corridor that leaned away from the village. “It goes on. A few miles, maybe, until you reach the next village. We came back once we saw them.”

Aren nodded and took the pad. Din watched, arms crossed, but his attention drifted towards the rest of the village. Nara was with the healer to get a grip on the medical situation. The kids lingered nearby, feigning play while they really waited for the baby to be free to join them. Irin was helping take stock of what weapons the people had, with Jessa to oversee. Mari, Sair, and the kids remained behind, both watching the young ones and available to check on the tribe’s supplies.

“Aaaba.”

Din looked down. The kid raised his arms and Din bent down to pick him up, lifting the boy up into his arms. The boy snuggled against his neck and settled there. He let out a content coo. Din rubbed his back.

Trins flew away again with the datapad and Aren looked back to Din. “So,” he said. “Silver.”

Din grumbled. “... You heard Mika.”

“I heard last  _ week  _ when this started.” He could hear Aren’s grin. “It’s adorable.”

“I can’t get her to stop.”

“And she shouldn’t.”

Din rolled his eyes. “Thanks.”

“It’s a  _ good  _ thing, Din. Hilarious to us, of course, but you saved her life and she trusts you.” Aren elbowed him. “Well. Wait for  _ Paz  _ to hear it. But I’m serious - it’s a good thing at its core. You saved one of their children, you know what it would mean to us.”

Din glanced over. “Right,” he muttered. While Mandalorians were secretive, untrusting of those who might do harm - there was respect to be given to someone who would protect a child not their own. If someone had put themselves into danger for his own son?

Some respect was owed then.

“What do you think of them?” he asked.

Aren crossed his arms and looked around with a thoughtful hum. “They’re protective of themselves,” he said. “For good reason. But they know what they’re doing - the animals, the farming. They said they’ve been here for generations. If we can learn to navigate any cultural differences with diplomacy rather than fighting, I think this could go very well.”

“I hope.”

“The others are coming around to the idea. Give it time, and we’ll all be here.” Aren nodded. “This is one of the last planets before space turns wild, and it’s small. It’s a good hideout. And if you’re willing to bring the kid here, Paz is willing to bring Kira. Mari will come. The rest of the little ones can’t go without their friends. We’ll all be here.”

The kid was quiet in Din’s arms, happily resting at his shoulder. Din stroked his back, nodding, and looked out at the fields. At least there were no ponds for the boy to fall into. “If we’re lucky, the cats will be the only thing we have to worry about,” he said. “Their meat is good. I don’t know what kind of trouble could be drawn here, anyway.”

“Says the man who’s been dragging trouble wherever he goes for the past several months.”

Din grumbled. “Gideon is dead,” he said. “Blew the  _ osik _ out of the sky. Dune and I killed most of his men, anyway. Unless he had a second in command and didn’t bring all his troopers to Nevarro.”

“I wouldn’t bet my credits on it,” Aren said with a head shake. “This planet has been quiet since we got here. There’s an industrial center nearby, but even that’s quiet, too. This is treated more as a resource planet. There are a few mines, but not near us.”

“Good.”

Soon, Aren departed to oversee the established barriers, and Din laid the child down for a nap in his new bed.

Aren had been right. Once their  _ al’verde  _ was willing to show trust by moving his own  _ ad  _ into the village, the others began to trust as well. Within two weeks of Din’s first contact with the locals, the covert had almost moved completely over, though most of their supplies were kept hidden in their hideout for emergencies.

Kira and Cass seemed to mesh right in with the village children. While their clothing clearly set them apart - they wore tunics and pants, and the village children wore their blue woven cloth, the girls in dresses - they didn’t quite act that way.

“Paz was very stern with them,” Mari said. “That they’d all be in trouble if they played too rough.”

Din looked over. The baby was settled in his lap, dozing after a filling lunch of meat, too lazy to go join in the play. “Seems effective.”

Mari nodded. She and Din had always been friends, though not the closest. She was close with Nara, and after… events, it had somehow always felt like a rift between them. But she was never unkind or cold to him, and Din tried to not let it stand in the way of things.

“How are you?” he asked.

Mari looked over at him, then shifted, her gaze turning back to the children. “As well as can be hoped,” she said, amusement in her voice. “All things considered.”

Din nodded. She was not terribly far along in pregnancy - her armor was loosened, still allowing comfort, but they had no armorer to craft something better fitting. If needed, that portion of armor over her belly could be temporarily discarded, but in terms of comfort… no Mandalorian would enjoy that. To be without armor was to be exposed. Especially when it was the part of your body protecting your child.

Thoughts drifted in his mind, and he felt his mood dampen. His arms tightened around the little one in his arms.

“How is that girl?” Mari asked. “The injured one.”

“Sani is good,” he said. He’d seen the girl up and walking around with the healer at her side, and more recently, walking with Nara. She still walked with pain, a hand at her abdomen where she was no doubt still healing. But quite alive, and quite recovered. “She’s young. Fast healer.”

“They bounce back better,” Mari said with an amused smile.

“Afternoon.”

Both looked over as Nara approached. The baby made a happy trill as he saw her, but closed his eyes again, far too sleepy to be excited. She walked over and stood, arms crossed, and Din adjusted the child in his arms. The baby snuggled in closer and for a moment, there was discomfort.

“How are things?” Mari asked. “You’ve spent a lot of time with their healer.”

Nara sat down on the ground, letting out a tired breath. “They have more than us in terms of  _ quantity,”  _ she said. “As for quality… it’s not much better. But they do have bacta, and-” she gestured to Mari. “They have plenty of experience in childbirth. My real concern is that if we run into a serious problem, we don’t have the best supplies to handle it. We’ll need to go off-world for that.”

“I could go,” Din said. He looked up towards her, then at Mari. “I don’t know of any places to get those supplies but the Crest has room for whatever we would need to transport.”

“I’ll talk to Paz,” Nara muttered, and she began to get up.

Din frowned. He watched as she dusted off her pants and walked away towards the center of the village. He turned to look at Mari, who shrugged, then he let out a sigh and began to get up. He cradled the child, who let out a little huff at being disturbed, and walked into their hut.

In the span of one more week, the tribe had settled within the village. The children merged well together and spent time either learning the other culture’s games or hearing stories that had finally found fresh ears to listen. The families moved into their new homes, granting them privacy, and there was a rush of  _ peace  _ when Din and the baby could sit and eat without fear of someone turning around too early.

Most of the Mandalorians found jobs somewhere. Aren took charge of the defenses, and always had two people patrolling the perimeter with every comms unit activated in case something happened. Paz went through the weapons cache, both of which the villagers were already trained for and what the tribe could spare. With one hand, he would show the young adults of the village how to reload the pistols with efficiency, all whilst Kira sat on his hip to watch.

It was the most Mandalorian image Din had ever seen, and it made sense how the five-year-old girl was already so proficient in such tasks.

Mari took delight in spending time with the children, the type of Mandalorian who took fierce protectiveness over little ones. Nara was often with her, or with the healer to create a list of what they needed and watch over Sani’s healing. The teenager was a  _ menace  _ about staying in bed. She  _ claimed  _ it was Mika’s chattering that made her want to get up and move, but as Nara told them, “She wants to see what’s going on. She wants to see us. Din and I are the only ones she knows.”

That night, they’d all trooped into the healing hut to greet her, and Din had stood by the door to watch. The girl seemed  _ calmly  _ excited, as though hiding the extent of her enthusiasm, even as her eyes kept drifting to Din almost for reassurance. They’d left her with more of a smile than she’d had in weeks.

Things were going well. The baby now had found an endless stream of attention - if the adults were not wrapped around his little claws, then he had the other children to fill in the gaps, and he perked up in a way that he hadn’t since Sorgan. Without ponds to fall into, Din could relax a little more, letting the child wander as he desired. The village was big but there were no true dangers so long as he stayed within the borders, and with so many eyes, Din was not worried.

Din… did not have a job. Not at first. His job mostly consisted of watching over the child or patrolling, and occasionally being pulled into games or stories with the children - with Mari’s traitorous encouragement. Mika, an energetic ball of excitement, would always plant herself at his side and he would let her.

The name ‘Silver’ spread. He could feel Mari’s grin or hear Paz’s laugh whenever the kids shouted for him.

“Don’t worry,” Mari told him. “They’ve started calling Paz ‘Blue’.”

“Trins is ‘Bird’!” Aren called with a laugh, and they turned to look at the passing Mandalorian. “‘Cause they always see him flying.”

“What are you?” Din called back.

“Nothing - I’m not giving them the  _ chance _ to think of one.” Then he disappeared around a corner and Mari laughed.

“Smart,” she said.

“At least Silver is better than  _ Bird.” _

“Din.”

They looked up again. Paz stood nearby and he waved over. Din frowned and glanced at Mari, “Excuse me,” before he walked towards the commander. Paz watched him come over and then began to walk himself as Din fell into step beside him. “What is it?”

“Supply trip,” Paz said. “We need certain things and we want you to go get them in the Crest.”

Din frowned, then nodded. “The Crest?” he asked. “Your Streak could fit more space.”

“I want the Blue Streak here on the off chance that we need to get out. I’d rather have the space for people rather than equipment.” The children ran past them, laughing, and Kira and Cass gave them waves that they returned before the little ones disappeared again. “The Crest will have the room we need. We can send you and Nara.”

“Nara,” Din said. “... I would’ve thought Aren.”

“Aren wants to stay to be sure that the patrols and border protection is going smooth. He’s a stickler for it. Part of our supply list is retrieving a midwife droid for Mari.” Din mumbled under his breath. “Nara knows of a contact that Savil once had. Someone who can get us one without going through all the official channels and leaving a trail. They’ll trust her since she was trained by him, and the Crest is yours.”

Din didn’t respond.

Paz looked at him. “I know you and Nara have… problems,” he said. “I wouldn’t put you two together just for fun. You’re two who could get the job done quickly and efficiently and you’re both strong warriors. If it’s that much of a problem, Aren could-”

“No,” Din said. “No. We’ll manage.”

Paz nodded. “Maybe you can use the travel time to talk it over,” he said. “At least… come to an understanding.”

“Maybe.”

“Did you ever break the vows?”

Din looked at him, then down to his hands, brushing them together. “No,” he said. “We just…”

Paz nodded and clapped him on the shoulder. “Not my business,” he said, and Din nodded in return. “We’ll give you the list for both our needs and the village. You and Nara can have a few days before you go.”

They parted ways.

Din did not get far before a familiar shout reached him. Mika’s voice was distinct to him now, the shouts of “Silver! Silver!” enough warning before the little girl ran into him from the side. He took a step to stay standing then looked down and set a hand on her head.

“Hello.”

“Come on!”

She grabbed his arm and started to pull him. “What is it?” he asked, but she just pulled harder. She led him past the buildings towards the fields. He followed along until they began walking through the tall grass that came just below his knees. When she stopped abruptly, he had to take a lunging step to stop too without bowling her over. She pointed in one direction and Din looked.

“I want to do that,” she said.

Well over a hundred paces away, almost on the other side of the village, the native men were standing in a line. They held their pistols out, aiming at straw targets, with Aren and Sair pacing behind them to watch. Paz was walking to join them. Din watched as they shot another round of bolts, most missing, and he looked down at Mika.

“That’s not for you, yet,” Din said. The village elders had made it clear that they did  _ not  _ want blasters in the hands of their children, especially their girls, regardless of how the Mandalorians felt about it. It was a cultural boundary they did not yet dare cross. “Maybe one day.”

“But…” Mika looked out at the trainees, her expression falling. Din frowned. “But they’re doing it.”

“I know. But it’s dangerous.” Din put a hand on her back but felt his own chest tighten. He…  _ wanted  _ to, would have no problem beginning the start of such education. He’d trained young ones before. But he imagined handing his blaster to Mika and the trouble it could start when they’d only just begun.

But he…

“Here,” he said. He reached down to his boot and pulled his vibroblade from its sheath. Mika turned to watch with big eyes. “Ever held a knife?”

She shook her head. “Sani has,” she said. “But Papa says I’ll cut myself.”

“You will if you aren’t careful,” he said, and he crouched down beside her. He held it out to her, holding the blade. “This is a vibroblade. It’s off now, but if you turn it on it will vibrate very hard. That makes it easier to cut through things.”

Mika stared at it, then slowly took hold by the handle. Din let go of the blade. “Always hold it away from you,” he said. “You have to always be aware of where the blade is. If you’re too careless, you could slice yourself or someone else. Like those guns-” he points down towards where the men shoot. “Don’t point it at someone if you don’t intend to hurt them. Accidents happen, but you can’t treat it like a harmless toy.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“I’ll turn it on so you can feel it,” Din said, and he reached up to press the small button on the side of the handle where his thumb would go. The blade burst to life, rumbling as it vibrated hard enough for the blade to shake. Mika gasped and held it away from her, but her hand didn’t falter on the grip. After the initial surprise, she stared at it, then giggled.

“Whoa.”

“That’s what makes it much more dangerous. Much easier to cut through something.” Din was careful to reach and press the button again. The vibration died and he eased it from her hand into his. “... I can’t hand you a gun like those. But I might be able to show you how to handle something like this. Okay?”

Mika looked at him with wide eyes and nodded, brushing her hair back from her eyes. Din looked her over and swallowed before standing and he held his hand out. “I have to leave,” he said. She grabbed his hand. “Soon. But I’ll be back. We can talk about knife safety then, alright?”

“Okay!” Mika said with a big smile on her face.

…  _ What if,  _ he started to think, and forced himself to push away the thoughts of a life that had died long ago.

After two days, they had prepared themselves. Din retrieved the  _ Razor Crest,  _ flying high above the trees to reach their ship hideaway. He returned in the craft and settled it at the outskirts of the village with the ramp down, at first frightening the native children who cowered. The tribal children, however, saw the Crest and ran over with excited shouts to show that there was nothing to be afraid of. “Can we go up?” Cass shouted from the edge of the ramp.

Din looked over as he climbed down. The village children were creeping up behind the  _ Mando’ade  _ with wide eyes, gone from frightened to curious, and he let out a sigh. He walked over and hit a button on one carbon freezer, then the other, deactivating both. “... Sure. Be careful.”

The children ran up and Din passed them as he headed back.

The rest of the day was spent packing it up. Space travel could last weeks or months, depending on how much trouble they had in obtaining the supplies that were requested of them. They loaded on enough crates of food for at least two meals each for every day over the course of three months, most of it gifted by the villagers. Din and Nara passed each other as they brought the crates on, silent for anything other than mutterings of “excuse me” or “not there.”

It did not bode well for the trip.

“You aren’t coming,” Din told the kid, but the little one was insistent on following after Din wherever he went. He whined to be held and would grab onto Din with all the strength in his body.  _ Stay.  _ The boy made it clear without proper words that he did not want Din to go, did not want to be separated. But Din certainly would not take him along either.

“You’re safe here,” he said. There was an entire village for food and shelter, their surviving tribe members for protection, while space could be wild and unpredictable. He would not take the risk, no matter how much the boy pouted. And at the end of the day, when the sun was going down, he said a temporary goodbye.

The baby cried. Din leaned their heads together and stroked his ear, their usual goodbye routine, but it did not calm the baby. The tribal children shouted their goodbyes to Din and Nara, jumping and waving, and Din had to make at least three promises of returning with treats before he could actually go.

Leaving the kid in Aren’s arms was… difficult. As he followed Nara onto the ship and headed for the cockpit, he felt a sense of guilt. But he was doing this for his tribe, and the child was in safe hands with their fellow  _ Mando’ade.  _ He distracted himself with work as he began the liftoff sequence, and Nara sat in the back copilot seat, silent.

“We can go to Manpha first,” she finally said. “My contact from Polis Massan will meet us there. We don’t need anything else like we need the Chroon-Tan.”

“What’s a... Chroon-Tan?”

“A midwife droid,” Nara said. “They’re built for childbirth and infant care. If we can get one, our chances go up exponentially of this going smoothly. I’d sacrifice everything else on the list if we can secure one.”

“Good.” As the sky turned black and the stars became clearer, Din looked around, checking that the systems were running smooth and without complication after a good while spent on the ground. As they broke free of the atmosphere, the numbers on his screen were reading normal. “... Are you going to be able to… handle it? With Mari?”

He didn’t get an answer. He turned and looked over his shoulder. Nara was looking at him, expression hidden. “Why wouldn’t I be able to?” she asked, her voice cold.

Din just looked at her, biting his lip. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He turned in the chair with his hands hovering, unsure of what to do. “I didn’t…” He paused. “We should talk about this. We can’t… do this.”

“Do this.” Nara scoffed. “We’ve been doing this for  _ years,  _ Din, because of  _ you.  _ Don’t decide that we should talk now just because you can’t run from it anymore.”

“I wasn’t-”

“I’m going down.” Nara stood and pulled off her helmet. Her dark auburn hair was messy beneath, tussled terribly by the helmet, but she looked at Din with the same fire she always had. Though now, the fire had turned its flames against  _ him.  _ She tucked her helmet beneath her arm and walked out of the cockpit without another word, starting down.

Din watched in silence. She disappeared from sight into the cargo hold and he took a moment before spinning around to face the black of space. He reached out to check on their course, knowing full well that they were on track. Then he pulled off his helmet and set it in his lap before slumping forward, elbows resting between the controls.

“Damn it,” he muttered, rubbing at his eyes.

This was going to be a long trip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My [tumblr](https://solarr-eclipse.tumblr.com/)


End file.
